SALIGIA
by The Sinners
Summary: Seven sinful one-shots from seven of the Twilight Fandom's most sinful.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended**

* * *

**SALIGIA**

The mnemonic acronym based on the first letters in Latin of the Seven Deadly Sins  
_Superbia_, _Avaritia_, _Luxuria_, _Invidia_, _Gula_, _Ira_, _Acedia_

It was used to ingrain the sins into the consciousness of the masses.  
Today, The Sinners intend to do the same through seven tales  
of trespass, transgression, and temptation.

Pride, Greed, Lust, Envy, Gluttony, Wrath, and Sloth  
A one-shot of sin will be released each hour on the hour  
starting at 11:00 AM/EST until complete.

We make no promises of happily ever after or redemption.  
These are stories of _sin_ after all.

Quid Pro Quo  
We'll tell _you_ who we are.  
You tell _us_ who you think wrote what.  
On the evening of March 5, 2014, we'll reveal each sinner's sin.

Without further ado, we invite you to enjoy the immoral,  
to writhe in the wicked, and to find the virtues in the vices  
as told by The Sinners.

Sinfully Yours,  
DazzledIn2008, GothicTemptress, JonesnInDaHood, LayAtHomeMom,  
Planetblue, Robsmyyummy Cabanaboy, and SexiLexiCullen


	2. Greed

_**Greed**_: _noun_ \ˈgrēd\ _(Latin - Avaritia)_

1 : a selfish desire to have more of something

* * *

"Leaving so soon?" Emmett sauntered out of the bathroom suite, wrapped in the hotel's finest luxury Turkish cotton. Condom wrappers tossed haphazardly on the floor and the scent of sex that lingered in the air still hinted at their latest round of fucking.

"Time's up, loverboy."

He watched her move with purpose around the room as she gathered her undergarments and briefcase. After sipping the last of her champagne, she took her coat from the rack.

"Same time next week?"

She smiled and tied the belt. "On the dot."

"I'll walk you out." He followed behind her, but as she reached for the door knob, he grabbed her wrist, spinning her around.

His semi-hard cock jabbed at her.

"Feel that?" His kiss was hard, his tongue teasing relentlessly. "Sure you need to go?"

"Got another grand?" Emmett was a great fuck, but this was about time, and time was money, and money was power.

And power…well, that was everything.

He pulled back, his eyebrow raised incredulously. "Come on." His mouth demanded hers again. "Chump change."

With her hand on his chest, she pushed him backwards a step to undo her belt, exposing her lace bra and panties. "All yours."

**.**

**.**

**.**

Emmett always made sure to wash the smell of pussy from his body before walking through the door. Rosalie might be flighty, but she wasn't an idiot. He doubted she'd ever be able to follow through on her threats to leave if she caught him screwing around— she loved the luxury of their life way too much— but he couldn't afford to call her bluff. His father was all about appearances, and there was no way Emmett would ever inherit the company if Carlisle knew he was having an affair.

Could he even call it an affair?

There were plenty of women who threw themselves at Emmett's feet, but he didn't pay them any attention and he certainly didn't pay them any cash. Only one lady had the power to make him stray and pay for it in the process.

_Isabella_.

He'd first met her at a political fundraising dinner for Senator Whitlock last summer. She was on the arm of some moronic executive from a competing oil company, but it didn't matter to Emmett. She was well-spoken, highly intelligent and her beauty was captivating. She was irresistible.

Three years of marriage to Rosalie Hale had him bored to death and sexually frustrated...he was downright deprived. Of course, as the only daughter of a high-energy, well-known TV evangelist, Rosalie wasn't about to let her man stick his dick any old place, husband or not. Emmett wished he'd received that memo prior to proposing. She had preposterous standards and insisted there were things in the bedroom that were completely unnecessary and beneath her.

Which is exactly why Emmett ended up beneath Isabella.

The night he met her, he flashed his dimples amidst mutual flirtatious looks, which ensured she'd have his number before he left with his plastic Stepford wife.

Emmett took her card as well, and couldn't even wait twenty-four hours before he called her. The fact that she turned out to be an escort didn't faze him in the least. The money was of little consequence; Emmett suddenly felt alive.

Isabella had him tied up and was riding his face an hour after they met for that first dinner. To say he lived for his standing weekly rendezvous on Thursdays was in no way an exaggeration.

And after those evenings, she was always at least a thousand dollars richer. It paid to be desirable. Paid very well, indeed.

* * *

Isabella flipped through her date book while her driver negotiated rush hour traffic on the LBJ.

"Straight to The Continental, Miss Swan?"

"No, I need to grab a few things at my place first. My appointment at The Continental isn't until noon."

"Yes, ma'am."

Isabella raised the privacy window in the car and dialed back the call she'd missed during her last go-round with Emmett.

"_Two unreturned phone calls…I was beginning to think you ran off with a younger man." _

She smiled at the irony. But no, nobody would ever take her eyes off this particular prize.

"I could never leave you, my love."

"_I'm glad to hear that." _His throaty chuckle still managed to send a rush of heat between her legs, despite their significant age difference._ "How about you go ahead and clear your schedule for Valentine's weekend next month."_

Isabella swallowed tightly, knowing that was a big money weekend for broken-hearted souls in need of company. She hated the thought of losing out on the cash. Last year on Valentine's Day weekend she spent a day and a half with a one-time client in town on business. He got his lonely rocks off and she got fifteen thousand dollars.

She quickly scanned her day planner. Actually…February fourteenth was Edward's weekend, but he wouldn't care. She'd make it up to him.

"Aww, you have something special planned, Sugar?"

Her sweetened tone only made him fall harder. _"Very special. We'll be going someplace warm and secluded. Very little clothing necessary, but you know you have your card and can go ahead and buy whatever you'd like to show off for me."_

Isabella's smile brightened when she heard she'd be able to use the black AMEX card again soon. Having a blank check— so to speak— at her fingertips was always nice, but she didn't want to be an outright thief. When he gave her the green light, she indulged and enjoyed every moment of doing so.

"I'll pick out a few little numbers that will dazzle you."

"_So that's a yes?"_

She gave herself only a few seconds to hem and haw. It would be worth it in the end. There was a game plan here, and she had to stick to it.

"Yes, of course I'll join you. I can't wait to see what you have planned. You always spoil me, baby."

"_Perfect. Now, when can I see you again? You've been busy with your business trips and seminars."_

"I'm just back from a symposium in New York, actually." The lie rolled off her tongue so easily. "How about I cook for you on Sunday?"

"_Shall I send a car for you?"_

"No, I'll have Felix drive me. Be there by three, okay?"

"_Sounds perfect. See you then."_

Isabella punctuated the call with her signature kiss and smiled. Valentine's weekend with her sugar daddy. Though she could have turned him down very easily, knowing there was money to be made on such a holiday for lonely hearts, she needed to put in her time if she hoped to get her hands on Cullen Oil someday.

The privacy window lowered a crack before she heard her driver's voice. "It's a parking lot, Miss Swan. We might be here a while. Radio says there's an accident up ahead about a mile or so."

"Thanks, Felix. But if we're here for too long, you're going to have to do your best Moses impression and part those cars. I can't be late for The Continental."

"Yes, ma'am." He raised the window as Isabella leaned her head back and closed her eyes. Exhaustion was finally catching up with her after the week she had. Her schedule kept her extraordinarily busy, and in turn, extraordinarily wealthy. There's no rest for the weary though, and there sure as hell isn't any money for the weary, either.

As long as she played her cards right, Easy Street would be right around the corner. Being married to Carlisle Cullen would be the ultimate game-changer. To be on the arm of the man who owned a fifteen billion dollar oil company was nothing to sneeze at. With all that money came power and prestige — Isabella salivated at the thought. People who had money like that made others stop and listen, had them working for them day and night, and were constantly at their beck and call. The amount of influence that walked hand in hand with that kind of money was incomparable and Isabella's ultimate goal. The power she and Jasper could wield together would be unparalleled.

She'd carved out quite a name for herself— discreetly, of course— in the few years since she graduated college. Yes, she had her degree in international business— even had the business cards to prove it. But to make it to the top, or at least be somebody who counted in that field, was entirely too long and arduous a journey. She wanted that money, that privilege…the clout that came with that position of authority, and she didn't want to wait to get it.

It was all about being the puppet master… the need for power. Isabella was always in complete control and planned every step meticulously. Even as a young girl, she knew what she wanted, knew how to get it, and more often than not, took it without apology.

Her childhood in Los Angeles was not a memorable one. She was frequently reminded that she was the inconvenient result of some one-night stand after an Aerosmith/Guns N' Roses concert back in '88. Isabella's father was never in her life. As for her mother, she was barely there, either. Her mom tried her best, but Renee was more of a train wreck than anything else. They fought like cats and dogs while her mom tried to force Bella to be young and carefree and all Bella wanted was the routine and order Renee could never provide.

Once Isabella was accepted into college, she hugged her mother goodbye and left without turning back. Isabella assumed that Renee knew it was safer for the two of them to part ways with minimal contact and she was thankful for her mother's insight in that regard. Isabella sent the woman a present on Christmas and her birthday, usually a gift card to a local grocery store, because Renee was just mindless enough to forget to shop for food at times. Singing in dive bars, painting and trying to sell her so-called "art" on Venice Beach, braiding hair and drawing henna tattoos…her mother was a jackass of all trades. Last she heard, some deadbeat guy named Phil had latched onto her and was mooching off her spectacularly sparse resources. They were a match made in mediocrity heaven.

At the University of Texas, Isabella excelled as a major in international business. Her GPA never wavered from a 4.0, but it wasn't all because of her intelligence. Oh, she was incredibly smart. But one day late in her junior year, she learned that her body— coupled with her knack for carrying on an educated conversation— was going to be her ultimate weapon.

Isabella always sat in the front row to ensure her professors knew she was serious and eager to learn, unlike some of the clowns and half-drunk frat guys who occasionally stumbled their way into the early morning lectures and labs. These amateurs made eyes at her, but she simply ignored them, knowing full well they weren't worth her time. She was usually able to get away from them before they got close enough to speak to her, but one morning, a putrid-smelling kid from Sigma Tau Delta sidled up to her. The Greek letters STD couldn't have been a coincidence.

"You know…I came here for you today."

Isabella didn't bother to look up; she just rolled her eyes and continued to pack her backpack.

"I usually ditch, but I've seen you here a couple times and knew I needed to get with you. Always so sexy with your glasses on, taking notes." He got closer to her ear. "That pen tapping at the edge of your lips when you listen to the lectures. I'd love to see what you'd look like with something else between your lips...both sets."

Isabella's mouth fell open while shocked humor played at her eyes. She could have responded in any number of ways, but decided to go for the obvious. "Do you realize you smell like a cesspool?"

Frat boy furrowed his brows. "A what?"

"A cesspool," she repeated loudly. "A large pit of raw sewage. Though some girls might consider you mildly attractive, sadly for you, I'm not one of them. My advice to you regarding future propositioning techniques would be that you shower first, to get rid of the combined smell of Drakkar, beer, vomit and splooge from your body before trying to talk to a girl. You might have better luck, Casanova."

He stood there stunned, as Isabella spun on her heels and marched out of the lecture hall past a chuckling professor.

"Miss Swan?" Isabella stopped short and looked over her shoulder. "May I see you in my office, please?"

_Oh fuck_. She berated herself as she followed behind Professor Lee, worried she was about to be in trouble for what just went on with sewage boy. The fact that she had an enormous crush on this teacher didn't make things any easier. He was young, probably in his early thirties. He always wore a tie, but never a jacket. His sleeves were usually rolled to his elbows, and the glasses he wore made him look positively succulent.

Isabella got off more times than she could count to the image of this man writhing underneath her.

He placed his briefcase on his desk and loosened his tie while she immediately launched into an apology.

"I'm sorry for being so rude out there, Professor Lee. I'm not at all interested in dating, and that guy just—"

He held his hand up. "I'm not about to scold you for what I just witnessed out there. Didn't you see me laughing? That idiot deserved it right between the eyes."

"Oh! Well, okay." Shifting on her feet, she smiled in relief and readjusted her backpack on her shoulder. "So, is there something else you needed?"

"Well, two things, actually. The first is that I was hoping you might be interested in being a teaching assistant for me. Interims just went out and you're earning perfect marks. I have a couple of one hundred level courses that I could use your help in. They'd be paid positions through work-study, if you'd like."

Give up her job as a file clerk in the alumni house to work next to this man several times a week instead? Yes, please!

"I'd love to."

"It would be a full year position. I'd need you through the summer sessions. Will that work for your schedule?"

"Oh, definitely," she answered eagerly as they both grinned. "I mean, I have no summer plans at this point. I could stay on campus."

"Excellent. The second thing I needed to talk to you about is a little more of a confidential matter, requiring complete discretion, but I think you'd be up for it."

"Okay?" She was unsure at this point, but willing to listen to anything this gorgeous man would speak about.

"I've learned that a student in our program will need some help this summer, but he won't be attending any classes on campus."

"He's a distance education student?"

"Not exactly, he lives here in Austin. He's considered a full-time student on campus but he's been watching recordings of my lectures, of all the lectures in the program. They'll need to be hand-delivered to him. Along with any of the required reading, handouts, tests, etcetera. The student who's currently helping him has plans to transfer at the end of the semester."

Isabella's eyes searched the room, looking for answers in her head as to why a student who lives in Austin won't come to campus for classes. She decided to leave it alone…for now.

"We can talk more about it as the summer session approaches. But as for the TA position, you can start whenever you'd like."

.

.

.

It didn't take long before she found herself working long hours in Professor Lee's—_Garrett's_— office. Between grading papers and helping him with research for his second doctoral dissertation, she felt completely comfortable going to his home on the weekends. Their chemistry was undeniable. She would've fallen into bed with him immediately if he asked her, but she knew she had to be careful. This was her education. If things went sour, he could report her instantly. But she wanted him so badly she could taste it.

And that's when it hit her like a lightning bolt. He had just as much to lose, maybe more. Not that she intended to hurt him…but if they started something, it would be just as risky on his part as it would be on hers. Knowing she had that kind of power over the situation gave her a rush of adrenalin and she launched herself at him.

It took no convincing for Garrett as she stripped him down and blew his mind while she blew his cock. The man saw stars. They spent the night kissing and licking and fucking and sucking until the sun peaked through his cheesy Venetian blinds.

"I hope this won't change anything," Bella hinted as she dressed. "I still want to work for you and help out with that student this summer."

Garrett leaned down to kiss her, grasping her chin gently. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

.

.

.

About a month later, Isabella found herself in the 2nd Street District, being buzzed up to the 52nd floor of The Austonian. The level of luxury surrounding her had Isabella's heart racing. She was headed to one of the penthouses, no less. Wonder what this guy's deal was? Clearly he had bank. Maybe if she flirted enough, she could get a rich boyfriend out of the deal. She really didn't _do_ boyfriends, though. She liked sex, of course, who the hell didn't? But getting tied down into one relationship was only going to hinder her pursuit to have it all. When you settled with one, your options vanished.

No…single but enjoying life was the only way to be. Maybe he'd turn out to be a new fuck buddy who was generous with his wallet? That might work. Garrett didn't share his money with her, but he sure as hell fucked like a Greek God _and_ she passed his class with flying colors. It was a win-win in her book.

She pursed her lips, smiling to herself. _You're so bad, Isabella. What? You're hoping to be a kept woman? More like aspiring to be a hooker. No, never a hooker. Maybe a high end call girl. Yep, that'll be the day. _She rolled her eyes at her asinine inner musings and rang the doorbell once the elevator opened.

"**Yes?" **

"Uhh, yeah. I just buzzed you from downstairs? I'm Isabella Swan." There was nothing but silence from the other end of the intercom. "I brought over your books and syllabi for your classes this semester."

At least thirty seconds passed with no response._ Is this a joke?_ Suddenly, a series of locks sounded like they disengaged and the door opened to…nobody.

What. The. Hell?

The only light that she could see was coming in from the floor to ceiling windows out in the living room, but she was in a darkened entryway.

"Just put everything on the table in the foyer."

Isabella looked behind her and saw a sleeve poking out from behind the large, open door. Turning back toward the table, she unpacked her backpack, laying out the three textbooks, a flash drive and two file folders of paperwork labeled _EAM._

"Thank you," said the disembodied voice, its owner still hidden from Isabella's curious eyes. "That envelope is for you."

She glanced behind the centerpiece to see her name elegantly written in calligraphy.

"And what's this?"

"Your fee."

Her face scrunched in confusion. "I'm not supposed to be paid for this. I was just bringing it by because it's part of my job as Garr— err, Professor Lee's teaching assistant."

"It's not a problem. I'd be paying a messenger if it wasn't you doing the transporting. Take it."

Isabella was never one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Money was money and she could use every penny. Her apartment for the summer session was costing her an arm and a leg.

"So…did you need me to go over anything with you?" she offered, feeling awkward that she was carrying on a conversation with a large steel door.

"No, I'm quite capable. I'll see you in a few days with whatever else is assigned throughout the week."

Isabella nodded to the voice and hoisted her bag up onto her shoulder again.

"Okay, well…I'll see ya," she mumbled with an eye roll, walking out. The door slammed behind her and the locks re-engaged. "Or hear ya." She snorted to herself. "Fuckin' wacko."

.

.

.

Over the next few weeks, Isabella's mystery project— also known as the sleeve and voice from behind the door— eventually got a little more comfortable with her. In was on their fifth encounter that he finally permitted her to see his face and officially introduced himself.

Though very attractive behind his dark half frames, with a head of brown, unruly hair and an impressive stature, Edward Masen was still very much an enigma to her. He was always in the shadows, never allowing Isabella to get close enough to examine him fully to see whether or not he was worth the effort.

She made the short trip to his home twice a week, once on Thursdays to drop off the flash drive with the recorded classes as well as any handouts, and once on Sunday evenings to pick up papers and take-home tests he needed to return to his professors.

Each time she went, there was a crisp, one hundred dollar bill waiting for her in an envelope. For merely walking the two blocks from campus to Edward's apartment and back, Isabella earned two hundred dollars a week.

It was too simple. So simple that she wanted more. It made her wonder what else she could do to earn quick and easy money like that.

.

.

.

By the first week of August, both summer sessions were completed. Isabella was facing three weeks of well-deserved vacation before her senior year began. She had to make one final run to Edward's home to drop off a letter from the Dean of the department.

"Hello." He nodded with a smile as she stepped inside the door.

"Hey. Just wanted to drop off this letter from Dean Fuller." Their hands ghosted each other's during the exchange. He didn't recoil as she thought he would.

"Thank you. I appreciate it. Uhh, hang on a second." He left the foyer for only a moment and came back pulling another hundred dollar bill from his wallet. "I would've had it in an envelope had I known you were coming."

Isabella put her hand up to halt him. "Oh, really. It's not necessary…this one's on me."

"You're sure?"

"Definitely," she confirmed, taking a step back. "So, Dr. Fuller said if you want me to continue to do so, I can still be your messenger once the new school year starts, but it's ultimately up to you."

"Okay." He offered her nothing else; she suddenly felt awkward.

"Well, enjoy your break." She turned toward the door with a little less spring in her step. She could only speculate as to why.

"Wait, Isabella…before you go." She glanced over her shoulder and found him with his eyes downcast for a moment. "Would you, uhh…would you want to stay for dinner…I mean, if you don't already have plans? Maybe to celebrate the end of classes?"

She was stunned at the sudden invitation. In a bizarre turn, her mystery project was giving her a sign of life. Isabella never grew attached to anything, she just wasn't that type of emotional person, but ever since she started interacting with Edward in his darkened entryway, she'd felt an odd pull to discover more about him.

"I don't have any plans."

He shrugged, extremely unsure of the route he was taking. "It's just that— well, aside from Felix who runs my errands— I don't speak to anyone and I just figured…"

A coy grin danced across Isabella's face. "You don't have to say anything else." She dropped her book bag from her shoulder and took charge. "Do you like barbeque?"

.

.

.

"I don't really have anyone I'm close to either," Isabella confessed, wiping the excess sauce from her fingers.

"I know."

"You _know_?" She was taken aback, more confused than anything.

He quickly corrected himself. "I mean, I know how hard you work in your classes and for Professor Lee. And then always running here for me…you must not have many distractions outside of school…like me." Edward threw the rib he'd been picking at on the plate between them. They sat on the floor in his living room with the fading light of day above the Austin skyline still attempting to illuminate his apartment.

Isabella nodded. "Yeah, I've never done well with people getting and staying close with me…that's why I keep myself so busy. I need to make sure I'm always in the driver's seat. Having friends usually means compromising and giving up a little control." Isabella snorted. "Needless to say, I'm not very good at that."

He sighed deeply. "Thank you for not giving up on this job," he whispered before continuing. "I know I didn't make it easy for you in the beginning."

"You don't have to explain." She shook her head. "I'm just glad we bridged a little gap." Isabella hesitated before her boldness took over, demanding the answers she'd speculated on for the last ten weeks. "So...you never go out. I've never seen anyone else visiting you with the exception of Felix who I've only ever seen in the lobby downstairs. You keep yourself shrouded in darkness. Are— are you a hermit or something?"

His crooked half-grin appeared; it was endearing. "Technically agoraphobic. I don't do well in crowded places. I like the silence and solitude— need it, actually. It comforts me."

"Huh. Were you always like this?"

He sniffed and took a sip of his sweet tea. "My drugged-out father abandoned me in a shopping mall in Virginia when I was three. It was the day after Thanksgiving, so the crowds were hefty all day long. I was playing in a toy store for a while, nobody paid attention enough to see that I was on my own. I ended up following this family into a department store and was playing hide and seek with their little boy."

Isabella cracked a smile, but it was a sad one, knowing this story wasn't going to have a happy ending.

"I hid inside one of those circular clothing racks, you know? Well anyway, after a few rounds, my new friend just never came looking for me again." Edward shrugged. "Eventually some lady spotted me and realized I was on my own. I don't remember much else, just that I was surrounded by police officers for several days. Ended up in the custody of the state." Edward's head whipped toward the windows when a flash of lightning cut across the sky. "I didn't talk much after that," he confessed, reaching for another rib. "And nobody wanted to adopt a mute orphan."

"So how did you end up with so much money?"

Edward started chuckling at Isabella's bluntness. He wasn't at all offended…he wanted to tell her his story. Felix knew the abridged version, but nobody else knew the details, and somehow he wanted her to be the first.

"The less-than-stellar doctors who handled my case just rubber stamped some papers saying I was mentally disabled because I wasn't talking. So, I was placed in a group home rather than foster care. I don't remember how it all transpired, but some neighbor of my grandparents' came to visit a relative in the same group home I was in." He shrugged, popping a fry in his mouth. "Small world, I guess. Supposedly, I looked just like my dad, and this lady flipped out when she saw me there."

"Was your dad still around to take care of you?"

"Nahh. He'd been in and out of rehabs since before I was dropped on his doorstep by my coked-up mother. My grandparents had no idea where he was because they'd disowned him years earlier. Once their neighbor started telling tales of this little orphan who looked identical to their son, who was also stuck in a group home, they had an attack of conscience.

Isabella listened with rapt attention. Renee seemed like Mother of the Year in comparison to the shit Edward dealt with as a young boy.

He sighed, chugging his the last of his tea. "Turns out they weren't very nice people…or at least not emotionally equipped to deal with my issues. So between me not talking and them with no interest in trying to get to the root of my problems, it was easier to just send me to boarding school and set me up with a hefty savings account to draw from."

"That kinda rots." Isabella pushed her plate away, her appetite gone. "Do you ever hear from them?"

Edward shook his head. "They both died when I was a teenager."

"Jesus."

"Ehh, it's really no loss on my part. I've managed."

It was impossible to conceive that a life in solitude and darkness was considered "managing". A silence descended for a couple of minutes and it made Isabella uncomfortable, like whatever bonding they might have done tonight had come to an end.

"And how did you meet Felix?" She tried to resuscitate the conversation.

Edward stood and started collecting the plates. "I was bullied ruthlessly at school because I kept to myself as much as possible. Felix had enough one day and intervened," Edward explained, mirth creeping into his tone. "He made it a point to wait for me after classes and walked me back to my room. I didn't thank him…didn't even say a word to him for over two months, but he didn't seem to care."

"Wow."

"He let me be me," he continued with a shrug. "And that's what I needed. Just has a good heart, I guess."

"Sounds like it. I'm glad you have him."

"Me too." Though quiet for several beats, Edward piped up again. "Thanks for caring enough to want to know me. I usually just creep people out."

Isabella's smile matched Edward's. "Everybody needs a friend, right?" She thought about the words she'd just spoken. Aside from Garrett, who only fucked her for a good time and her impeccable research skills, Isabella had nobody in her life she could lean on. A few acquaintances here and there, but nobody of significance.

She and Edward exchanged quick glances as they finished clearing their dinner from his coffee table. If a man who knew and trusted almost nothing but the shadows had opened up to her, maybe she could learn a bit of that same kind of trust.

Isabella didn't understand his life. For her, life was about being out and about, the drive to seek to be the center of attention in order to gain the wealth and power she'd hoped to achieve…but maybe she could still learn to find it in herself to be a friend to this man.

Perhaps.

.

.

.

Isabella continued to see Edward twice a week to bring his school work by. She wouldn't stay long, but ever since their dinner that night in August, there was an unspoken camaraderie that gave each of them some contentment. They'd commiserate on the workload, compare answers on take-home tests. Their relationship, as it stood, just…worked.

And though she found some level of comfort in that darkened doorway, her need for acquiring the most knowledge, the most attention, the most wealth…the most power never waned. It seemed to be a thirst she couldn't ever completely quench.

Later that fall semester, Isabella found herself knocking on her Finance professor's office door. Sickened when she received a seventy-four percent on her midterm, she needed to figure out how to do some extra credit, or at least get some extra help and quickly.

"Come in."

Isabella pushed open Dr. Hunter's door to find him typing away at his laptop.

"Isabella?" He invited her to have a seat. "What can I do for you?"

"I'm really concerned about my grade on the midterm, Dr. Hunter. I wanted to meet with you to find out if there's anything I can do to improve. I _have_ to get an 'A' to keep my GPA up. I'll do anything."

With no additional projects aside from the cumulative final—which was only worth ten percent more than the midterm— she'd need a perfect score to even hope for a solid 'B' in the class.

"I give no opportunities for extra credit. Your only chance to boost your grade would be to excel on the final. Perhaps you should find a study partner or tutor."

Isabella knew without question that Edward would work with her, helping her where she struggled. But a wicked idea she'd been toying with suddenly became a desire she wanted to explore. Perhaps she could offer Dr. Hunter something else. She saw how he watched her.

"Is there anything else I can do?" There was no denying the seductive tone in her voice. Offering her body in exchange for a better grade seemed to be the next logical step in Isabella's warped mind. Without hesitation, she went with her gut instinct. She stood, walking around his large mahogany desk, and stopped in front of the man who held her academic fate at this moment in time.

He said nothing, just continued to stare up at her as she started to unbutton her blouse.

"Are you single, Dr. Hunter?" Her fingers slid delicately as each flicked open another button. "I'm not blind. I see you staring at me during class. Do you think of me when you go home at night?"

The words flowed from Isabella's mouth so easily. It would baffle anyone else that she was throwing herself at her teacher's feet, but she felt no remorse.

She only felt the rush…the high...the power.

"I could have you expelled from the International Business program for this display."

She slipped her blouse from her shoulders and unzipped the side of her linen skirt, thanking her lucky stars that she wore a matching bra and panty set today. It certainly didn't hurt that they were lacy and the bra practically see-through.

"You could…but you won't." Her skirt slid down her hourglass hips as she stepped forward, still wearing cream sling-backs on her perfectly manicured feet.

"What do you think is going to happen here?"

His terse question stiffened her spine, but she wouldn't be deterred. This was going to work. It _had _to work.

"I want you to know that you're in charge," she purred, kneeling down between his legs. The bulge in his crotch was becoming more well-defined with each passing second. "You can use my body however you'd like." She reached for his buckle as his eyebrow rose to a point. "I just need to know that you'll take care of me…" Her index finger traced the outline of his hardened cock. "…while I take care of you."

"I won't throw out your grade."

"I don't expect you to." His buckle made a clanking sound under her manipulation while her eyes locked on his as she pulled his zipper down. "I just expect that perhaps you'll consider this extra effort on my part— ongoing, if you'd like— when you take into account my grades in December."

She reached into his pants and unleashed his thick erection. The swollen, sensitive tip leaked at the promise of Isabella's lust-filled words. Her eyes hooded, she gave one final glance to her professor whose gaze was still trained on her face. After a few tugs, she lowered her mouth and swept her tongue up the side of his shaft, swirling at the head.

Dr. Hunter's head fell back on his chair, and he readjusted his hips to get more comfortable. Though he attempted to feign shock for those first few moments when she arrived in his office, clearly he had no moral issues with Isabella's proposal. While he enjoyed the sensations, she slurped, sucked and hummed her way to a guaranteed grade far above what she'd just earned on her midterm. The grunts and moans he made while she pleasured him gave her the high she was seeking. She wanted more of it. Not only was he turning _her_ on sexually— the wetness between her thighs making itself known— but she owned him in that moment. He was at her mercy and she felt it thrum through her body. The control that she held in her hands made her soar. It was everything she'd always craved.

Pure power.

This was only the beginning.

.

.

.

"We should go into business together."

Isabella paused mid-chew, so as to not choke on her lo mein. "Edward, you're sweet, but you don't want to go into the business I'm considering."

"Why not?" He emptied a third packet of duck sauce into a bowl for his egg roll. "I know you struggled in Macro and Micro, but I can take care of the numbers part."

"Don't forget Finance," she added with an internal smirk.

"Yeah, but you came back and killed it in the end."

Poor Edward, if he only knew what she did to get that 'A' in Finance last semester. Not to mention her threesomes with the Macro and Micro professors.

She shook her head. "You're about to start a career as an international economist, Edward. You're a damn genius."

"But I'll need someone to go out and represent me at times. That could be your role. Take the business trips, shake the hands…you know."

Isabella sighed, feeling the need to be deadly honest with Edward. "I appreciate your confidence in me, but I've taken a job on Senator Whitlock's staff. I need the money as soon as possible. I can't chance starting out as an entrepreneur like you."

Edward looked completely crestfallen. It was the first outward expression of emotions she'd seen since she met him a year ago.

"We'd be great together." His words were all he had to give. If she couldn't see that, his proposition was just a sinking ship.

"You'll do fine on your own. Everything is handled on computers nowadays. You would never need to step out of your apartment. Maybe a phone call from time to time, but that's it."

He nodded with a smile nowhere near genuine. At this point, he just needed to be alone again.

Bella, on the other hand, did her best to scramble and pull the right words from thin air. Though their working relationship had evolved over the year into a true friendship, Edward just didn't have the power and clout that she needed to harness in order to make it to the top of the game.

Their relationship was just safer if it remained friendly.

* * *

Felix opened the door and helped Isabella out of the town car. "What time will you be ready to leave, Miss Swan?"

Isabella pulled her sunglasses down her nose. "Felix, you've been driving me around for the last year and a half. We've known each other for almost three years through Edward. Don't you think it's time you started calling me Isabella?"

A reticent grin appeared. "Not while we're on the job, ma'am."

"But you don't even call me by my name when you're off the job," she countered, grabbing her Diet Coke from the cup holder.

"That's because I don't ever see you after hours."

Isabella wrapped her lips around her straw, making a show of her sip. "We could always remedy that, you know," she purred with a wink.

He chuckled and closed the door as she stepped away. "Edward would plot my murder."

"Oh stop," she scoffed with a wave. "He's never laid a hand on me. There's no claim there." She walked backwards in her four-inch stilettos. "I'd give you the friends and family discount." Her light-hearted tone didn't freak Felix out, but he knew there were limits, no matter how enticing Miss Swan made the offer.

He shook his head with a smile. "Call me when you need me."

She waggled her eyebrows, turning, and headed toward the elevators to meet her next client.

**.**

**.**

**.**

Isabella poured a glass of wine to enjoy while she waited for Peter to contact her. Thankfully, she'd left a bottle in the fridge when she was last here. Walking over to the sliding door to look out on the horizon, she spied the ominous cloud cover heading toward Dallas. The meteorologists were all squawking about the supposed ice storm and frigid temperatures on their way for the next couple of weeks. She'd believe it when she saw it. Yes, the temperature would dip from time to time, but it had been years since Dallas had seen any snow or ice during its normally mild winters.

If anything was going to happen, she hoped it wouldn't ruin Carlisle's Valentine weekend plans. It was clearly important to him, and in turn, it needed to be important to her. The end result…the bottom line was all that ever mattered. And Carlisle was the bottom line.

A sharp rap sounded at the door, forcing her mind to calibrate and bring on her game face. She'd never regret the hand she dealt herself, but she needed to make it work until the windfall arrived. As she walked toward the door, Isabella took several quick sips so as to not waste the Chardonnay.

A look through the peephole showed Peter waiting for her, hands clasped in front of him…looking ever the secret service agent. Isabella rolled her eyes at the display. If he ever made it as far as the White House, she'd faint dead away. For now he was simply a glorified bodyguard because he was a close friend of the Senator.

"Peter," she greeted him with a sardonic grin. "Nice to see you again."

He nodded curtly. "Miss Swan." Stepping inside, he remained at the door, glancing at his watch while she finished her wine and placed the glass in the sink. "Will you be much longer?"

"Oh, Peter…get over yourself. I've been here for twenty-five minutes waiting on Jasper. If he's annoyed that I'm delayed by ninety seconds because I finished my wine, he'll have to suck it up."

"He has other places he needs to be, not the least of which is back home in Houston with his wife and child."

Isabella threaded her arms through her trench coat, her head cocked. "Do you have something you need to say to me?"

"No."

She started laughing, heading for the door. "You're a lousy liar, Peter. I don't think you like me very much." He gave no response, just waited until she walked past him and pulled the door closed.

"My opinion of you has nothing to do with my job…and right now I'm doing my job."

"Even if you don't like it." Isabella's snarky comment was enough to push his buttons.

"You're a whore. And you're fucking a happily married man," he spat. "I don't know how you sleep at night."

She quirked her brow as they stopped at the elevators. While that all may be true, he'd need to try a little harder if he really wanted to hurt her. "Anything else?"

He rolled his neck after adjusting his tie. "No."

"Let me ask you a question." They straightened and stepped to the side when the elevator doors opened and a family with a couple of children filed out. As the doors closed again, she leaned on the rails while they traveled to the top floor. "Are you happily married?"

"Yes."

Her eyes narrowed going in for the kill. "And were you happily married last fall at the benefit?"

His nostrils flared when he realized where she was heading.

"I think we can both agree that you've been bitter ever since I turned you down."

He swallowed tightly, looking down at the woman who'd stomped all over his ego several months ago.

"I think we remember two different versions of the story. Let's just leave it at that, shall we?"

She threw her head back and cackled as they reached the penthouse floor. "What version do you remember, Peter? Is it the one where you slipped your fingers between my thighs and fingered me as we sat at the dinner table? When you knew I was someone else's date that night, no less?"

He stared straight ahead with no reaction.

"I was talking to your wife, looking directly into your darling Charlotte's eyes while you were knuckle-deep in my pussy. How did_ you_ sleep that night?" Isabella approached the door of the penthouse. "Because I didn't cause a scene, you expected that I'd let you fuck me for free?" She clicked her tongue a few times. "Nobody gets it for free, baby. Not even the dear, _happily_ married Senator."

"You certainly didn't complain," he scoffed. "You were fucking soaked." Peter banged on the door waiting for Jacob to answer.

Isabella pulled on Peter's arm and tipped her head up to whisper in his ear. "I was soaked because Jasper had just eaten me out in the lounge, honey. It had absolutely nothing to do with you." She puckered her lips and kissed his jaw just as he ripped his arm away.

"Fucking cunt."

"Is there a problem?" Jacob, Jasper's chief of staff interrupted, having heard the last words Peter sneered.

"Not at all!" she chirped, stepping forward. "See ya, Pete!"

**.**

**.**

**.**

"Fuck me, YES!"

Jasper grunted while he drilled into Isabella from behind, her pulsing walls milking him to the point where he couldn't hold out another second. He pulled out with a roar and stroked his cock furiously as ribbons of his release splattered across her back.

He fell next to her on the bed and pulled her sweaty, spent body on top of his. When they came face to face, he kissed her hard.

"You taste like sex," she moaned, as their tongues danced in and out of each other's mouth.

The senator chuckled. "You fucking love it."

She hummed and continued to writhe against him. "I do."

After Bella rinsed off in the shower, she found Jasper, still naked, smoking a cigarette in bed. She waltzed over to him before dropping her towel and straddling his lap.

"The Surgeon General would be mighty disappointed in you right now, Senator. Not only smoking, but doing it in bed of all places. Talk about a fire hazard."

He blew the smoke out of his nose, flicking the ashes into the glass dish next to him. "Yeah, well, he's a Republican like me, so he'll probably forgive this little transgression."

She smiled as he turned the cigarette around, allowing her a puff. After they smoked it down to the filter, Jasper stubbed it out and wrapped his hand through Isabella's hair, bringing her face to his.

"I missed you, beautiful." He sucked her bottom lip into his mouth and nipped it when he felt her readjusting her heated core on his lap. "How was New York?"

After their kisses slowed to a few pecks, Isabella responded. "Went really well, I think. Senator Martinson was extremely satisfied from what I gathered," she boasted with a grin.

Jasper snickered and kissed her again.

"I'm sure you'll be hearing from him shortly regarding the new bill."

"Well, good!" He dug his fingers into the flesh of her ass, picked her up and sat her directly on his crotch, his dick just about ready for round two. "You deserve some extra attention for that one."

She giggled and sighed as his hand moved to cup her, the tips of his fingers sweeping through the wetness that gathered between her legs.

"I certainly do. He was into some kinky shit, too. That man had me holding a whip and wearing Catwoman suit— no lie— and before being ball-gagged, he begged me to ram a neon green dildo up his ass while I blew him."

Jasper guffawed. "I should've pegged that old geezer for a freak." Isabella joined in on the laughter. "Speaking of old geezers…what's the latest with Cullen?"

"I'm seeing him on Sunday, and he's taking me away for Valentine's Day."

"Aww, how sweet," Jasper mocked, slipping a finger inside her slick pussy. "Do I hear wedding bells?"

She shrugged but shuddered, not able to completely concentrate on a conversation when Jasper was getting her off. "Hopefully. The sooner the better, right?"

"That's the plan. We need that capital to keep up the momentum for the campaign."

"Mhmmm," she squeaked, ready to tip over the edge just as he added a second finger and started to lick her neck.

"We're almost there, baby. It's all coming together."

* * *

After she finished her shopping spree with Carlisle's AMEX card, Isabella climbed into the back of the town car, and pulled out her phone to text Edward. With all the preparations to go away for Valentine's Day with Carlisle, she'd neglected to let Edward know that she needed to flip their weekends. It wasn't like he'd have any plans, so she was sure he wouldn't care in the least.

Ever since they graduated, Isabella and Edward had become much closer. Though they never _ever_ spoke of their feelings, she knew she had a friend in him and whenever he asked anything of her, she helped him without thinking twice. She'd moved to Dallas after graduation while Edward, of course, remained in Austin. The drive was over five hours between their two homes, but Isabella made it a point to go down to visit with him at least once a month and she'd spend the night in his guest room. Edward was concerned that she'd be taking the trip on her own, so at the end of the summer after their graduation he'd made arrangements— which she'd agreed to after much convincing— that Felix would become her driver. Felix still helped Edward whenever possible, but as a new entrepreneur, he knew he needed to make a couple of changes in his reclusive life in order to be successful. He still never left his house, but at least he'd overcome his fear of being seen and made his necessary deals via computer by becoming proficient in Skype and other avenues of cyber communication.

It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out how Isabella earned most of her money, but Felix was ever the professional, never saying a word except when she teased him outright. He simply smiled and drove her whenever she called on him. He took his orders from Edward, who only cared about Isabella's safety. He hated that he didn't have the nerve to move himself to Dallas so that he could still see her more frequently, but with Felix keeping an eye on her, it calmed him a bit.

As far as Isabella knew, Edward believed she earned her paycheck as a staffer for Senator Whitlock. The fact that she fucked Jasper, and many others, in order to keep her bank account nicely padded was her own business. To be honest, the thought of Edward knowing what she did was the only time she felt any sense of guilt about her vile actions. There was such an innocence in him, it almost shamed her at the thought that he could ever find out she was selling her body to the highest bidder in order to gain as much power and influence as possible.

**Hi there. My week has been crazy and I totally forgot to ask you if we can reschedule our weekend. I'm going away for work. Can I come see you on the weekend of the 21****st****?**

His response took longer than normal.

_**It's okay to reschedule, but something's just come up that I really need to discuss with you as soon as possible. Is there any chance you can come here before you go away for the weekend?**_

Isabella flipped to this week's calendar. She didn't have any responsibilities until Thursday evening with Emmett. And truth be told, once she and Carlisle went public with their relationship, Emmett would probably drop her like a bad habit…or maybe he wouldn't? It made no difference to Isabella. She was fine continuing their rendezvous as long as he kept paying. Of course, she'd be Emmett's stepmother at that point. The thought made her cackle out loud. Maybe he'd start calling her "Mommy" in bed.

_Sick, sick, sick_, Isabella laughed at herself while she texted back. She knew she was going straight to hell, but it would be a lovely ride.

**Not a problem. Give me tonight to organize things and pack a bag, then Felix and I will come down tomorrow and stay till Wednesday.**

_**I appreciate it. Thank you, Isabella. **_

"Felix, I'm rearranging my week and we're heading down to see Edward tomorrow. Does that work for you?"

"Yes, ma'am. Not a problem."

She started to raise the privacy window, but stopped when Felix started talking again.

"You know, they're predicting that ice storm to hit late Tuesday night. If it happens, it might hinder our traveling on Wednesday."

Isabella shrugged. "Well, if it does, we'll just come back early on Thursday. Edward sounded pretty insistent that he needs to see me. I don't want to let him down."

* * *

"Thanks for coming," Edward smiled, holding the door open for them. Felix brought up her overnight bag and dropped it in the guest bedroom as she made herself comfortable in the darkened living room. The sky was eerie with the threatening storm. Maybe the weather gurus got it right for once.

"I'm going to take care of this list, Edward. I'll be back a little later."

"Okay, thanks Felix."

Isabella gave Felix a wave as Edward came over and sat next to her on the couch. He turned and flashed a wistful smile. "It means a lot that you dropped everything to come down here for me."

"Anything for you, my dear," she joked, quickly touching his hand. "So, what's this all about?"

He looked at the windows as they started to ping with the sound of rain mixed in with sleet.

"Truth be told, I was looking forward to our weekend together, but then when you cancelled, I knew I couldn't put off seeing you."

Isabella cocked her head, trying to read him better. "Well, you've got me now. And I'm sorry I had to reschedule on you like that. I take my calendar very seriously, and completely failed in not telling you ahead of time."

He waved her off with a shrug. "It's all right. I just miss you and the way we used to hang out during school."

She nodded. "Yeah, we had some silly times in this dark apartment." They both laughed at her quip. "So, what's on the roster for the rest of the afternoon? Clue? Monopoly? Battleship?"

"We can definitely play some games, but I wanted to show you something, too."

He picked up a remote control and aimed it toward the impressive, ebony bookcase. A double-shelf of books turned gingerly in silence and a big screen television suddenly appeared in its place. Her eyes were wide with shock.

"Holy shit, you bought a TV?" Isabella giggled and jumped up from the couch to examine the machine. "What made you do this?"

"You're always talking about your television shows. I figured it was time to see what all the fuss was about."

She turned around with a smile on her face and found it matched his. "Well, this is a fun surprise, Edward Masen. You get a gold star for this move." She sat back down next to him, practically nudging his hip. "I'm proud of you."

Those four words lit up the insides of Edward's heart like a fireworks display on the Fourth of July. It made him want to believe in his plans for the future. He just had to wait for the right moment to make his intentions known.

.

.

.

"So, your timing couldn't have been more perfect," Isabella announced to Edward who just walked into the living room, freshly showered. "A quarter of an inch of ice accumulated over night. There's a state of emergency across almost all of Texas. Felix and I won't be able to go anywhere until tomorrow."

Edward snickered. "I doubt he'll mind very much."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because he finally got a chance to take out a girl he's been communicating with for the last couple of months. He already called me to ask if I needed him for anything today."

Isabella's jaw dropped. "You mean he's downstairs in his apartment with a girl? And she spent the night with him?"

Edward smiled, nodding shyly. "Well, you spent the night here, too. Doesn't mean that anything happened between them."

"HA!" She couldn't help the obnoxious laugh that burst forth. "You're so cute, Edward. You're a rookie and clueless, but totally cute."

He walked toward the kitchen, trying to hide the hurt he felt at that jab. Just because he'd never acted on his desires toward the opposite sex didn't mean he was completely devoid of them.

"Want some waffles?"

"Yeah, sounds great!" Isabella flicked the remote, fell into the couch and got lost in the brainless world of the _Real Housewives of Atlanta_.

.

.

.

By mid-afternoon, Edward's building had lost power and they were playing Scrabble by candlelight. The irony of being back in his dark apartment again wasn't lost on Isabella. Did it ever really matter whether the electricity worked?

"Can I ask you a question?"

Isabella nodded as she plunked down two more tiles with the word _shy_. "Go for it. Triple word score, by the way."

"Did you ever have a nickname growing up, or were you always Isabella?"

She chuffed. "Actually, my mom called me Bella. She said one of the nurses who helped deliver me was Italian and kept referring to me as _bella faccia_ when I was born."

"Beautiful face."

"You speak Italian?" She smiled, shaking her head. "Of course you do. I should've known. But yeah, Bella stuck…even though I never really bought into it."

"Bought into what?"

"That I had a beautiful face…that I was beautiful at all." She shrugged. "That's why I insisted on being called Isabella in school and stuff."

Edward played the word _try_ vertically off her _shy_. "What if I started calling you Bella?"

Their eyes locked and her breath caught in her throat. "Why would you do that?"

He hesitated, but then drew from a pool of inner strength he didn't even know existed. "Because you are." Edward forced out a sigh of relief but was met with silence. "Say something…please."

Isabella straightened her posture and uncrossed her legs. "What do you want me to say?" she croaked, unsure for the first time in her life.

Edward promised himself before she arrived that he was going to be brutally honest with her before she left to go away for the weekend. He had nothing to lose at this point.

"Let me call you Bella, because you are…" His hand crept across the board and he laid it on top of hers and jumped off the cliff. "I—I want to be with you. I've felt this way for a long time." He took another deep breath. "This is me being straight with you. I've fallen in love with you, Bella, and I— I want you to make love to me."

Her mind raced. If any other man dropped on her a line like that, she'd bat her eyes and do what came naturally. But with Edward, he was untouched. And she was…dirty. So dirty. She never had a pang of guilt or shame over the way she lived her life. She set goals, she worked hard for them. She used her intelligence on a daily basis, but she did it while she spread her legs so that the right people would listen. Always in pursuit of money…always in pursuit of power. That was the pinnacle.

Only Edward, in his innocence, could make her feel remorseful over the depravity of her life's choices. He didn't deserve this blemish on him. She had no problem living the life she did…but to tarnish Edward's world? She'd never forgive herself.

Isabella stood up from their board game on the floor. "I'm gonna go lie down."

"Bella, wait."

She whipped her head around. "It's Isabella, Edward. And please…just don't."

He scrambled up off the floor and followed her into his guest room as she stretched out on the bed with her back to him.

"Isabella, please don't shut me out."

"You mean like you've shut the world out? How you've holed yourself up in this lap of luxury lifestyle, but don't bother turning on the fucking lights to see the beauty that surrounds you?" Her head crashed back on the pillow after she made her valid argument. "You're a goddamn hypocrite."

"I—I have a clinical disorder."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah…and you could get help." She shook her head. "Don't bullshit a bullshitter, Edward. I lay it on nice and thick every day in my job. I play a part to get a job done."

"I know."

"Yeah, whatever…you know," she seethed. "Do you even have a fucking clue what I do for a living?"

"You work for Senator Whit—"

"As an _escort_, Edward. Yes, I'm on his staff, but I've also been having an affair with him for almost two years, and I sleep with men for money. _Lots_ of men. He's practically my pimp. I earn gobs of money for me, yes, but also money for him and his campaign. Together we're going to get all the way to Pennsylvania Avenue."

Edward swallowed tightly, listening to Isabella's confession. "I know all of that."

She tossed a look over her shoulder. "You know I'm a whore and you still want me?" She shook her head. "I should've known Felix was a talker."

"It wasn't Felix. He's never betrayed your confidence."

She was annoyed and intrigued enough now to turn over and sit up. "So how then?"

He shook his head. "Somebody else I hired to follow you." Her face blanched at his confession. "It was more for your protection than anything else. I was always so worried for your safety."

"Let's set aside for a second the fact that you had some freak stalk me for God knows how long. We can come back to that later. But, knowing all that you know about me…you want me to fuck you? Like you're just another dick with a hefty bank account that I can get my hands on? I've never made love a day in my life."

"I just thought maybe—"

"That's your problem, Edward, you think too much." She flopped back onto her side, punching the pillow under her head. "Fuck you. Fuck you for thinking that any of this seduction scene would work. How dare you put me in this position?!"

Edward's stomach was in his throat. He'd messed this up so terribly. For the first time in his life, he was actually fearful of losing something he'd allowed himself to care about. Minutes passed. Since he'd come clean just as she had, he figured there was no reason to pull back now. He tentatively laid down next to Isabella, mirroring her position even though her back was still to his.

"Please don't go away this weekend."

"I have to."

"You don't," he pleaded. "You could stay with me. I could show you what's real…what's true."

Isabella shook her head as tears spilled from her eyes. Damn Edward for trying to pull her back. She knew what she was doing. He couldn't be what she needed from this life. He just didn't get it…and he never would. She lived for being the center of attention…lived for the daylight. She'd never find happiness and contentment in the shadows.

.

.

.

Sometime in the middle of the night, Isabella stirred when the bed shifted behind her. She'd cried herself to sleep earlier, not realizing Edward must've stayed. It was comforting…and heartbreaking.

"Are you awake?"

"Yes," she replied softly. Her tone held the anguish and guilt that she despised feeling. Again, an unfamiliar emotion and she hated every moment of it.

"I have something for you."

She turned over and found Edward sitting at the edge of the bed holding a small, antique-looking bedside lamp. With a bulb. And it was on. A light was on in Edward's house.

"I uhhh— I bought this for you last month. I mean, technically it's for me," he said ruefully. "I was going to give it to you as a Valentine's Day gift."

She stared at him, then back at the lamp. This was unprecedented. Incredible. The effort he made in just this very ordinary gesture must've terrified him. But he stepped out on a ledge and did it anyway. He turned a_ light_ on in his house. It tugged at the edges of Isabella's shredded, darkened heart.

"I figured we'd keep it in this guest room…your room. When you're here, there's always a natural light. But then when you're gone, at least I'll still have something that can shine in your place."

Isabella couldn't focus on anything but him. His words, his innocent looks and this amazingly thoughtful and courageous gift.

She flew across the bed and her lips collided with his. He was tentative at first, but didn't pull away. He'd bolstered himself in the hopes that she'd return his feelings someday. When the reality hit him that he was actually kissing Isabella, he moaned and slipped his tongue in her mouth. Their kiss was slow and wet…sensual. Everything he'd imagined it would be.

She'd been up on her knees, running her fingers through his hair as he dropped the lamp on the floor and pushed her backwards into the pillows. Once his body covered hers, he found his voice again.

"I don't know what I'm doing."

She cupped his cheek and kissed him chastely. "That's okay…I do."

They slowly undressed each other, kissing along the way. He was gentle with her. She studied him as he kissed her ankles, behind her knees, her wrists. His tongue flicked at her erect nipples and she rocked into his hand, trying to find relief as the pads of his fingers grazed her clit.

He never lost his nerve and for that moment, she dropped the persona she always projected with her other clients.

This was Edward. He was different…and he deserved different.

"I don't have any uhh…protection," he whispered while she sucked on his neck, his hands roaming and discovering all he wanted to know about her body.

She pulled away and reached for her purse on the night stand, removing a condom from an inside pocket. Not wanting to embarrass him by asking, Isabella took care of sheathing him and straddled his lap. With their eyes locked, she sank down slowly and stilled when he was fully engulfed within her.

"Are you okay?" she purred, running her hands down his chest.

He nodded rapidly. "Are you?"

She smiled. "Just relax."

Isabella did her best to help his first time be a memorable one. Her hips rolled as she moved up and down, drawing out his pleasure. When she leaned forward, her breasts rubbed against his chest hair while they kissed and nipped at each other. He met her thrusts, a death grip on her ass that made her feel possessed by him.

Just as she sped up, Isabella was startled when Edward wrapped his arms around her back and rolled them over. They exchanged smirks and he began to drive into her without hesitation.

"Fuck," she panted, "right there, Edward…yes."

Her words spurred him on while boosting his ego, encouraging him to plunge into her harder, faster. When she brought her legs up, so that her knees were alongside his shoulders, he groaned at the adjustment and kissed her feverishly. Just as her orgasm hit and she tightened and pulsed around him, he put his weight on his propped arms to watch where their bodies were joined.

"Oh, God."

Her lips found his again and she swirled her tongue in his mouth. When she squeezed him, his hips pistoned, deep and hard before he shuddered, losing his rhythm through an earth-shattering orgasm.

Their kiss slowed and he pulled his face back to look in her eyes, the lamp still illuminating the room from its position on the floor. She offered him a soft smile that didn't reach her eyes, but he was too high from their encounter to really pay attention. She knew this changed nothing about her future, but it changed everything about her relationship with Edward.

Nobody was going to walk away from this night unscathed.

.

.

.

"Where are you going?"

Isabella glanced his way but continued to shove her clothes in her bag before she pulled on her sneakers.

"I need to be back in Dallas by three. Felix is pulling the car around to the front for me now."

Edward shook his head in disbelief. "You're— you're still leaving? But I thought last night meant—"

"Last night meant nothing."

The life in his eyes vanished, his shoulders slumped forward. Isabella froze after hearing the words that hung in the air. She didn't mean that being together with him meant nothing. She meant to say that it didn't change anything.

"Nothing," he repeated.

"I can't reverse my course, Edward. I have a plan, and I need to stick to it. I never meant for any of this to happen. Of all the people in the world, you're the last person I'd _ever_ want to hurt…you have to know that. But I won't change who I am…not even for you."

Anger and betrayal flooded his mind and shattered heart. He sprang from the bed, still naked and stomped across the hall to his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

Isabella flinched at the loud crack, but wouldn't be deterred. She could've amended her words, but perhaps if she left them the way they were interpreted, it would help Edward have a clean break.

She closed her eyes in resolve and hoisted her bag on her shoulders, walking out of her room. Before she got to the door, she heard his bedroom door swing open again and she turned.

"Here." Edward surged forward, now wearing jeans. "I don't know what the going rate is, but I wouldn't want you to do anything pro bono." He shoved a fist full of cash toward her chest.

Tears stung at the corners of her eyes, but she tried to pull herself back. "Don't do this, Edward."

"What? I'm a paying customer, right? And like you told me, you're a whore trying to add to your gobs of money, so take it. A thousand? Two? You spent the night, I don't know if that adds to the tab." He stared daggers into her eyes, unflinching. "What do I owe you?"

Isabella couldn't stop the tear that escaped. She studied his hand and made a decision which would hopefully be the final nail in the coffin that ended this painful moment.

"Three for the night, including services rendered."

He nodded, satisfied. "Not bad." Edward counted out thirty hundred-dollar bills and placed them in her open palm. "Thanks for your time."

He spun on his bare feet and stormed back toward his bedroom, slamming the door again. Tears flooded her eyes and a sob escaped. As quickly as the emotions washed over her, she scrubbed her face and cleared her throat.

She needed to get her head back in the game. It was Thursday and Emmett would be expecting her this evening.

* * *

Carlisle scooped Isabella up early on Friday morning, grabbed the Cullen jet and by noon, they were relaxing on a private beach in St. Maarten having just christened their double lounge chair.

"Was this a good surprise?" he murmured while his lips ghosted over her sun-kissed shoulders.

She smiled as best she could. "Very. This is a treat." She rolled toward him and nuzzled his neck while his hand danced up her naked side.

"I have something to say to you." She licked and kissed him below his jaw and he chuckled. "But I can't get through it while you're distracting me."

"Sorry," she stopped lazily stroking his cock and giggled. "I'll behave."

Carlisle reached behind him and opened up a small velvet box to her widening eyes. She was staring at a four-karat, emerald cut diamond. She knew this might happen soon, but certainly didn't expect it this weekend.

"Isabella, I love you. These last ten months have been amazing for me. You've changed my world. I know turning away from your life as an escort wasn't easy, but you did it for me and it showed me how much you trusted me, believing I could give you the better life you deserved."

She smiled…played her part. It was all coming together like Jasper said it would.

"And I want to marry you. I want to marry you this weekend."

"What?" she sputtered. He couldn't be serious.

"Just hear me out." He pulled her up into a sitting position on their chair. "I haven't been completely honest with you."

Her brows furrowed. "What's going on?"

"I'm sick, really sick," he confessed, sighing. "I only found out two weeks ago and knew I needed to make some fast decisions. I want to know that you'll be by my side for however long I have. Esme was the love of my life and the mother of my child, but you've been the shot in my arm I needed ever since I lost her two years ago.

"You've made me laugh and allowed me to feel as if I was the luckiest man in the world to have you on my arm. I know I'm not who you imagined you'd spend forever with, but I've cherished this time together and I thank you. And I want to continue to thank you…for as long as I have left."

Isabella swallowed, looking between Carlisle's sincere eyes and the dazzling diamond in the red velvet box. She was about to inherit Cullen Oil from her nearly-deceased husband-to-be. This was a no-brainer.

"Of course I'll marry you."

**.**

**.**

**.**

Isabella and Carlisle were wed two days later at sunset on the beach. He knew Emmett wouldn't approve of Isabella, because nobody could ever take the place of his mother. And he respected that enough to not rub it in son's face. Emmett knew his father had been seeing somebody for several months, but Emmett also told Carlisle he wanted nothing to do with this new fling.

Isabella, after talking to Jasper, cleared her schedule to give as much attention to her new husband as he deserved. Almost immediately after they were married, she could see how his energy was waning and the pill-popping he did when he was in pain was a clear indicator that there was only a finite amount of time that Carlisle had left. Stage four cancer, advancing at an alarming rate…he never even bothered to consider chemo or radiation. He just wanted some painkillers and to live out his final days as happily as possible.

It made her wistful to some degree. He'd always been sweet to her, treated her like a queen. But it was never about love…it was never about love with any of them, not even Jasper. Not even Edward.

It was only ever about the bottom line. And if any or all of the men that Isabella screwed along the way gained her more power, then it would always be worth it. There was nothing more to think about.

Once Carlisle was bedridden, he was medevac'd home to Dallas where hospice was called in to help Isabella in his final days. Emmett was waiting for them when they arrived.

Unable to hide his confusion and then shock when Isabella walked through his father's door, Emmett stood in stunned silence. _This_ was the woman his father had been seeing?

While the hospice team set Carlisle up in his bedroom, Emmett took that opportunity to pull Isabella by the arm into his father's office downstairs.

"Care to explain what the fuck is going on here?"

Isabella shrugged, innocence playing on her face. "What? Your father is dying and he could use your compassion."

"I mean, why the fuck are you here, with a goddamn iceberg on your ring finger and why is my father calling you 'sweetheart'? _You're_ the one he's been seeing since last year?"

"Yes."

Emmett cringed in disgust and stepped toward her, towering over her small frame. "So all the while we were meeting, you mean to tell me you were fucking my father at the same time?"

She nodded, not understanding why Emmett couldn't fathom the connection of the amoral dots. This was her job, and she excelled at her job.

"How could you do this?"

"Emmett, you've known since the first night we met that I was an escort. My client list was never any business of yours, so it seemed of little significance that I tell you. What I do, and _who_ I do— when I'm not with you— has nothing to do with us."

His hands flew to his head. "It has EVERYTHING to do with us. I was sleeping with the same woman my father was sleeping with! This is fucking incestuous!"

Isabella rolled her eyes. "Oh, Emmett. Don't be so dramatic. I care about your father. He's a genuine man who's only ever been kind to me. I gave him a good time and made him feel happy when he was terribly lonely. I did what I do best. Don't go getting holier than thou and destroying your father's feelings days before he dies. Keep your mouth shut. This doesn't have to change anything between us."

Emmett barked out a laugh. "The fuck it doesn't!" He threw the office door open and darted out the front door without looking back. Isabella's only regret in that moment was the thought that she'd be losing two clients in such a short span of time.

.

.

.

Two days later, with Isabella by his side, Carlisle passed away. His wish was to be cremated and interred with his first wife. A memorial service was planned for two weeks after his death, but not before Emmett and Isabella were brought to Carlisle's lawyer's office for the reading of his will. They were each given individual letters, hand-written by Carlisle before he became incapacitated.

"As it stands, Mr. Cullen's assets will be split evenly between the two of you. He said you'd find the reasons in your personal letters. And with Cullen Oil no longer a factor, those moneys from the sale will simply be halved as well.

"No longer a factor?" Emmett parroted, bewildered.

Isabella's confusion only grew as she opened her letter.

_My darling wife, _

_Though we've only had a short time together, you've given this old man an infinite supply of happy memories. Thank you for being by my side. Ever since Esme died, I'd lost interest in continuing the ruthless business decisions that accompanied my work as the head of Cullen Oil. I would have bequeathed the company to Emmett, but I've always believed that the cornerstone of every marriage was monogamy. People who cheat on their spouses are willing to cheat on anything and everything, and I just don't trust Emmett to not sully the Cullen Oil legacy. I'd been fielding offers over the last year but never acted on anything…until my recent diagnosis. I knew I had to make a fast decision and the most recent offer that came across my desk while we honeymooned was the one that felt right. I got a good feeling from the young man I spoke to who was interested in purchasing. He's up and coming, but has still made a good name for himself as an entrepreneur. I knew he was the right choice. And though I sold him the company for a pittance, I know I did the right thing. It reminded me of helping you start out. Helping you turn your life around…giving you the opportunity you needed to do great things. _

_Please take the money I've left you and be happy, my dear. It's all I've ever wanted in my life, and I hope you find it for the remainder of yours._

_All my love, _

_Carlisle_

Isabella felt sick to her stomach as she refolded the letter. The lawyer was typing at his computer and didn't take notice. Emmett on the other hand crumpled up his letter, stood and walked out without another word.

"Th—thank you," Isabella croaked to the man behind the desk.

"You're quite welcome, Mrs. Cullen. So sorry for your loss. We'll messenger over any documents you need to sign. You'll need to be your husband's proxy for the final transaction in the sale of the company."

She nodded, feeling a thickness tighten in her throat, threatening to cut off her breathing.

"Do you have the name of the individual taking over?"

He shuffled through some papers, retrieving one. "Yes. An E.A. Masen. And he bought it for a song. Your husband might've been losing his marbles there in the end."

Isabella felt faint and excused herself from the office. In the lobby she met up with Emmett.

"As if finding out that my father was fucking the same whore I was wasn't bad enough, he went and sold the company right out from under me because I was cheating on Rose." Emmett laughed maniacally. "Cheating on Rose with _his_ girlfriend…and now I'm left with nothing. Ain't that some shit. Now I get to work for some little pimple-popper who's probably never even played Monopoly."

Emmett turned without a goodbye, trudging away.

"Oh, he's played Monopoly," she muttered. "I taught him everything he knows."

Isabella pulled out her phone and dialed the private line Jasper established years ago just for her.

"_Yes."_

"Jasper, we have a problem. I just came from Carlisle's lawyer's office. He sold Cullen Oil for not even a fraction of what it's worth." She shook her head, tears welling up, thinking about all the time lost. All the opportunities that have flown right out the window…so much power, just gone. "What do we do, now?"

"_I have bigger problems than that right now. Seems my name has been linked to some shady dealings. Anonymous tips brought to the attention of people who have the ability to squash my career."_

She lowered herself to a bench, still in the lobby of the law office. This can't be happening.

"What? Who would do this to you?"

"_It's gotta be Peter. I fired him last week when I found him on my personal laptop. I don't know what the fuck he was looking for, but he must've found something. We're not going to be able to stay in contact, Isabella. I have a feeling, if it is Peter and he's that pissed, your name is going to be dropped, too."_

The walls started to close in. Everything Isabella had planned for, been determined to get, was suddenly slipping through her fingers.

"_I can't talk. My advisors just arrived. Good luck, Isabella."_

She knew that translation. When the shit hits the fan, it would be every man for himself. There would be no escape.

Isabella took a deep breath and stalked out of the building. Felix straightened at the car door.

"Take me to Austin."

**.**

**.**

**.**

The same steel door opened and Isabella marched inside. Edward stood there, unmoving, his eyes trained on hers.

"I just have one question…why?"

"It's not personal," he replied, indifferently.

She stepped to him quickly and shoved him. "What do you mean it's not personal? This is my life! You ripped away every chance I've worked for!"

"And I offered you an opportunity to walk away from all that. From this shitty life that you've deluded yourself into thinking was smart and beautiful and powerful and prestigious. You were always all of those things, you just never believed in yourself like I believed in you."

Isabella batted away the angry tears that streamed down her face. "And to think I felt sorry for you. You've leveled me, Edward. You're just as disgusting as all the other men I've dealt with…you just hid in the shadows. But I see you now. Your black and white, darkness and light life has been exposed. Your true colors have been splashed all over the place. You're just as tarnished as I am."

Edward said nothing more. What Isabella said wasn't untrue. What he did was horribly devious; he knew he'd be fucking her over. As heinous as this move was, though, the bedside lamp remained lit in the guest room. He never had the balls to turn it off, he just shifted his game once she slaughtered him back in February.

"I'm sure you'll be just fine, Mrs. Cullen. Your dearly departed husband hardly left you destitute."

"You must really hate me."

"What I feel for you doesn't matter. I meant _**nothing**_, if I remember correctly."

His flippant tone cut her to the quick.

"What I did will barely even be worth mentioning once you make it to Pennsylvania Avenue, right?"

"**Mrs. Cullen?"** Felix's voice blared through the intercom system**. "I think you're going to want to leave as soon as possible, ma'am. Your picture is on the television right now. You're being linked to the senator in—"**

She interrupted him, not wanting Edward to feel any shred of remorse if he heard the truth of what was about to happen to her world. "Thank you, Felix. I'm on my way."

"Why is your picture on the television?" The concern in his voice seeped through, unintentionally.

Isabella stared back at Edward with empty eyes. All the life he used to see in them, all the light was suddenly gone. Drive was suddenly replaced with exhaustion.

"Nothing you need to worry yourself about." She made her way to the door, every step heavier with the knowledge that her personal life was already front-page news. The guillotine platform stood tall in the distance, the gleam of the blade a reminder of her countless sins.

"Good luck, Isabella." Edward called out behind her. "Like I said, it wasn't personal, it was a smart business decision. It's all about power, right? Thanks for teaching me what counts."


	3. Gluttony

_**Gluttony**__: noun_ \ˈglət-nē, ˈglə-tə-nē \ _(Latin - Gula)_

1 : excess in eating or drinking

2 **:** _**greedy or excessive indulgence **_

* * *

"Rosalie Hale to see Dr. Afton."

The receptionist holds up her long, bony index finger telling me to hold on without even looking in my direction, pulling the microphone of her headset closer to her mouth.

"Dr. Afton has two openings next week. He's available Monday at 9:00 AM or Wednesday at 1:00 PM. Would either of those days work for you?" Her voice is sweet and soothing and a stark contrast to the bitchy finger she's still holding up to me. "Alright, I have you down for Wednesday at 1:00 PM and thank you for being so understanding." She smiles at her computer screen. "You too, Mrs. Cope. Buh-bye now."

She looks up at me, beaming like I haven't been standing here for the past three minutes. It also appears that she doesn't seem to recognize me which I find odd since I've been seeing Dr. Afton every Monday morning for the past couple of months. "Hi, how can I help you?"

"Rosalie Hale to see Dr. Afton."

Her eyes widen and I can't tell if it's in recognition of my name or my questionable appearance. Normally when I come in for my appointment, I'm dressed for work. I suppose it's a far cry from the dress I wore to the club on Friday night that I'm still sporting three days later.

"Oh, I'm sorry Ms. Hale. We've been trying to reach you. Dr. Afton is ill." She gives me a quick once over. _I must look worse than I thought._ "I've penciled you in to see Dr. Whitlock in his absence, if you'd like."

I'm torn. On one hand, I have a pretty decent rapport with Dr. Afton. We play chess while we talk. He's familiar with my history and I've come to appreciate his direct, zero-tolerance-for-bullshit approach. This Dr. Whitlock guy, I mean, who knows, he may have me committed or something like that.

"He's new to the practice," she says, seemingly sensing my hesitation. With a wave of her hand, she directs my attention to a wall of portraits. I step forward to get a good look at the stand-in, and there he is, nestled between Dr. Weber and Dr. Yorkie is the very youthful Dr. Whitlock.

"Um," I say, drawing out the word staring unbelieving at the young doctor. Chin length, bleach blonde hair frames his face, while his pearly whites offset his fake bake tan. "Yeah… He's like ten - is there anyone of age that I can see?"

"He's a really great doctor," she says quietly and blushes.

Apparently the pointy tooth, spiky hair, finger holder has a thing for the Cheeto-tinted doc.

"I'm sure he is, sweets. But I need to talk to a real doctor who's been at this for more than a month. Is there anyone else you can squeeze me in with today?"

She shakes her head slowly and mouths the word 'sorry' though I don't believe she's sorry at all.

_Fuck my life_. "Alright, I'll see him."

"Great, go ahead and have a seat. He'll be with you shortly."

Sighing in defeat, I turn and face the thankfully empty waiting room. The overhead lights dance off the sequins of my dress as I walk, making pretty patterns on the light beige carpeting. I happen to catch a glance at my reflection in the mirrored glass coffee table and it's not pretty. Perhaps a trip to the restroom is in order, not that I'm particularly keen on seeing more of my reflection, but I showered and ran out of his place like my hair was on fire to get to this appointment.

"I'll be right back. I just need to use the restroom."

She nods and smiles, giving me the 'OK' sign before pulling her headset microphone to her mouth to answer an incoming call.

"For fuck's sake," I mutter to myself and toss my clutch onto the bathroom mirror's ledge.

To call myself a 'hot mess' is a severe understatement, wearing a strapless mini dress and sky-high stilettos on a Monday morning no less. I think I'll just call a spade a spade and say I look like a 'total fucking disaster'.

I run my fingers through my ratty-ass, air-dried hair, all the while inspecting the pallor of my skin. I wish I could blame the harsh fluorescent lighting or the fact that I'm not wearing a stitch of make-up for my current condition, but I can't. Sadly, I also can't make myself feel guilty for the questionable judgment that has me in this situation in the first place.

"Jackpot!" I pump a celebratory fist feeling like fucking MacGyver when I find a rubber band, a tube of mascara, and some lip balm in my clutch. Perhaps I'll be downgraded from a 'total fucking disaster' to 'quasi train wreck' yet.

Starting with my hair, I pull it all into a messy bun on top of my head when I see them - faint light purple fingerprints along my neck. Turning my head, I find another mark hidden beneath my jaw. I continue feeling around my shoulders and twist around to see if there are any more across my back and down my arms.

A sick satisfied smile crosses my face when I uncover ridges of teeth marks near my cleavage, just below the neckline of my dress. I can't help but revel in the evidence of him all over me. I feel him everywhere. He's there in the burn of my thighs whenever I bend to sit, and the dull ache between my legs that throbs both on contact and at the mere thought of him.

The wicked grin stays firmly in place as I make my way back to the waiting room, giving the receptionist a friendly wave and a wink when I take a seat. I thumb through a nearby US Weekly, distracting myself with the sordid tales of the latest off-the-rails starlet when my phone vibrates through my clutch against my leg. My body begins to hum and buzz right along with it.

It's him, and his text consists of one word. It just so happens to be the only word I ever want to see or hear from him.

_More?_

I pull my lip through my teeth as I type my confirmation.

_More._

His reply is nearly instantaneous.

_When?_

Unsure of how to answer his question, I decide to go with the least committal response.

_I'll let you know._

"Ms. Hale?" I look up to see the young doc coming toward me with his hand extended. "I'm Dr. Jasper Whitlock."

"Dr. Whitlock," I say, taking his orange hand in mine and briefly wonder if his Bain de Soleil sunless tanning lotion will leave a residue on my skin. "Please call me Rosalie."

"Rosalie." He corrects himself and directs me back to his office, but not before tapping the receptionist's desk, giving her a quick wave. _Oh_ y_eah, they're fucking for sure._

His office is similar to Dr. Afton's. Cool gray colors against dark charcoal accents. I'm surprised to find a chessboard set up on the table.

"Dr. Afton noted that you guys play chess during your sessions," he says, closing the door softly behind me. "I figured it may make things more comfortable for you."

"Well, that depends," I tell him, taking a seat on the couch. "Are you a better chess player than Dr. Afton?"

He shakes his head. "Not even a little bit. I'm a beginner at best."

"Good, let's play."

"Ladies first." He waves his hand, taking his seat across from me.

I move my pawn to e4 before casually inquiring, "So you've read my file?"

"I have," he confirms, countering my move with a pawn to c5.

"And you know what I'm being treated for?"

"I do." He rests his elbows onto his knees, propping his chin on his entwined hands, watching me play my knight. "How's that going for you?"

I sigh deeply. "Not particularly well." He follows my lead, moving his knight. _Beginner my ass, I'm getting hustled. _ "I think I'm relapsing."

His eyes don't leave the chessboard, nor does his brow arch in surprise, concern or question. "You're relapsing or you've relapsed?"

A humorless chuckle escapes my lips. "Have you seen my outfit today? What do you think?"

He gives no reaction whatsoever.

"I've relapsed," I admit quietly, pushing a loose tendril behind my ear.

He nods, acknowledging my honesty. "How long have you been relapsing? When did it start?"

"I don't know," I lie, knowing exactly when it started.

"You don't know?"

"Maybe a few weeks or so."

"Have you broken your 90-day abstinence commitment?"

My voice is barely above a whisper when I confess. "Yes."

"When?"

"A few days ago."

"But you say your relapse began a few weeks ago."

I shrug and watch him bring his next knight forward.

"What triggered it?" he questions, his eyes meeting mine for the first time since our match began.

_Him. _My mouth opens and closes, unsure of the words that may spill out of my mouth. "I met someone."

His eyes go back to the chessboard while he bobs his head in understanding. "Is this a special someone?"

The snort escapes my nose before I can stop it. "If 'special someone' is code for a spectacular fuck, then sure, he's a special someone alright." Apparently the f-bomb brings the brow arch I've been expecting. "No, this is not a romantic entanglement, doc."

"I see." His voice drops as he considers this. "So he's not someone you're in a relationship with. Would you say you see him as a _catalyst_ for your setback?"

"Not really. I don't know. Maybe, I guess." I push another pawn forward on the board and sit back, crossing my arms over my chest. "Ultimately I'm responsible for my choices, but I don't know. He's um," I pause, choosing my words very carefully. "He and I are very similar."

He advances his pawn one square. "How so?"

"We suffer from the same _affliction_," I say slowly, undoing the bun from the top of my head and nervously pulling my hair to one side.

Several seconds pass before he speaks again. "So, he's been diagnosed with a hypersexual disorder as well?" I confirm with a nod of my head. "How did you meet?"

"That's a long story, doc."

"I've got time."

"It's hardly PG rated."

He laughs. "Good thing we're both grownups here."

I resist the urge to bust his balls and ask to see ID.

"I'm serious. The details are a little…" I trail off suggestively.

"Risqué? Salacious? Obscene?" He rattles off the adjectives that don't even begin to describe our downward spiral into the depths of depravity. "I'm sure I can handle it."

"You asked for it." I tease, swiping one of his pawns and placing it on the table. "We met at a Sexual Compulsives Anonymous meeting or outside of one I guess I should say."

My mind flashes to the night we met as I begin to recount the sordid story to Dr. Whitlock. The words pour from my mouth while the memory plays until I feel as though I'm back in that moment, standing there on Rainbow Boulevard, taking that first deep pull from my pre-meeting cigarette.

Somehow the smoke calms and prepares me for the mind-numbing hour ahead of me. Sixty minutes of people like me sharing their sad, sad stories with other suckers who are just as desperate to fool themselves into believing that they're capable of managing their need. We all sit there and pretend to give a fuck about the person sitting next to us, patting them on the back because they've abstained from beating off in a public venue for eight whole days in a row. Truth be told, I just go to these meetings for the same reason I watch shitty reality TV: to make myself feel better. I may be fucked up, but I'm not as fucked up as those folks.

"Those things will kill you, ya know."

My thoughts are interrupted by the hulk of a man sidling up to me. He's brawny and barrel-chested, and while he appears unassuming in his cargo shorts and slightly snug tee, every single inch of him is muscled and imposing. I can't stop my eyes from roving over his well-defined and deliciously thick extremities. Unfortunately, his brim is pulled down low on his face so I can barely make out his features other than two huge dimples and a cocky smirk.

I blow the smoke out the side of my mouth roughly. "Well doing 'roids makes your dick shrink." I motion my lit cigarette up and down in his direction. "So apparently we both like to live dangerously, hmm?"

He steps close enough that I can see his brown-eyes narrow before he throws a chin nod toward my smoking hand. "Let me light a few more for you."

And with that, he walks into the building without giving me a second glance.

I flick the cig into the street, unable to even savor the dizzying effects any longer now that the Surgeon General took it upon himself to give me an audible warning.

Much like I do every Tuesday evening, I make my way into the meeting room and wave to the two regulars that I can actually tolerate. Just as I'm about to launch into my typical "hi, how ya doin'" thing, I see him. He's shifting nervously near the refreshment table and rightfully so since there is nothing remotely refreshing about the lukewarm coffee or stale store-bought sugar cookies. I wonder if perhaps I was a little too hard on him. Against my better judgment, I approach him in hopes of fulfilling one of my twelve steps and make amends.

"Hey," I say, tapping his bicep. "I'm uh… sorry about that out there." I jerk my thumb at the door on the off chance that he doesn't remember where our little spat went down. "These meetings just, I don't know, unnerve me." I offer my hand. "Truce?"

"Truce." He repeats, taking my hand in his massive one and flashing those killer dimples at me again. "I'm Emmett."

"Rose." I motion to the folding chairs. "Is this your first meeting?"

He shakes his head. "No. I've been going to the Sunday night meetings."

We take our seats in the very back. "Well, let me get you up to speed then." I lean into him and lower my voice, filling him in on who's who. "See that guy with the bed head and the little brunette next to him."

"Mm hmm."

"That's Edward and Bella. They're married and both of them are addicts. They used to go at it like seven times a day or something. Now that they have a kid, they're struggling to take it down a notch. Last week they said they were only doing it like three or four times a day."

"Really?" He asks disbelievingly. "You'd think that he'd look less constipated if he was getting laid that much."

_Fair point_. "He's a nice guy, a bit broody. I don't know. I really like them. They're actually the most normal ones here."

"What about that guy over there?" He points to the other side of the room where James and Mike are chatting.

"Which one? The potbelly with the pony-tail or the balding one whose neck rolls look like an eight pack of sausages?"

"Potbelly."

"That's James. The dude gives me the creeps. He doesn't talk much, just leers and shit. He's like a _Law and Order SVU_ episode just waiting to happen."

"What about sausage neck?"

"That's Mike. See the platinum blonde in the second row." He discreetly shifts so he can get a good look. "That's his wife, Lauren. She's here to support him." I shake my head, eying the sandy blonde next to her who I swear he's fucking on the side. "He's doing her dirty though."

"You think?"

"Absolutely. He's like a degenerate gambler as well, probably banging cocktail waitresses two at a time."

"Him?" He asks, managing to sound both incredulous and disgusted.

I hold up my hand and rub my thumb across the tops of my fingers , letting him know that money makes the pack of hot dogs on his neck a seem little more kosher to the skanks.

The meeting begins before I can give him the scoop on anyone else. Just like me, he doesn't share, he just listens. We sit in relative silence, fidgeting in our seats every now and again, particularly when someone's story hits too close to home. At least I assume that's why he does it, too.

"You gonna light up again, smoky?" He teases when we walk out together.

"Nope," I say with a shake of my head. "That's strictly a pre-meeting ritual. I usually hit up the diner down the street for a piece of pie to celebrate making it through another meeting."

"Celebratory pie, huh?" He pushes his hands into his pockets and looks in the direction of the diner.

"Yep. Best French Silk pie in Vegas." I nudge him with my elbow. "Come on, I'll buy you a slice."

"Uh." He rubs his hand over the back of his neck, contemplating my offer for a moment. "Alright, but I'll buy."

Two blocks, two slices, and two coffees later, we're sitting across from each other at the diner doing the whole 'getting to know you/what's your damage' thing.

"So what do you do?" I ask, watching him pick the chocolate shavings off the top of his pie.

"Personal trainer. I moved out here a few months ago from Washington state." Images of him in flannel doing manly things like wielding an axe and yelling 'timber' cloud my brain. "How about you?"

"Lawyer," I say it like it's a dirty word. I don't want him to think I'm like an ambulance chaser or anything, so I clarify. "Entertainment law."

"Well that's good, you're in the perfect city for it." He waves his fork in the direction of The Strip.

"I _was_ in the perfect city for it, actually." I stab at my pie angrily. "But yeah, Vegas works too."

"You were in Hollywood?" He leans in, his interest is clearly piqued. "What made you move here?"

I snort. "Ever heard the old adage 'don't shit where you eat'?" The side of his mouth lifts into a half smile. "Yeah, well maybe they should add 'don't fuck there either'." I shove a forkful of pie in my mouth and chew thoughtfully before adding, "Or 'masturbate in your office'."

Covering his mouth with a napkin, he nearly chokes on his laughter.

"It's just not a good plan to hook-up with the partners during office hours. Especially when their wives have the power to make you a professional and social pariah, you know?"

"I do," he says, scraping the last of the whipped cream from his plate. "I can relate to the whole 'don't fuck where you work' thing. I practically had to swim across Puget Sound to get back to Seattle after a client's husband found me planking on top of his wife."

"More pie you two?" Our waitress asks, interrupting our confession time while refreshing our coffees.

He looks to me. "More?"

_Always more_. "More."

"Two more please," he tells her, flashing his 'plank me' smile.

"So you're a personal trainer. Are you like freelance or do you work at a gym?"

"I used to freelance in Seattle. I just moved out here so I'm working over at the gym on Flamingo and Grand Canyon Drive." He shrugs and takes a sip of his coffee. "It's alright so far."

"I'm actually a member at that gym. I haven't been in a while though. There was … an incident."

Leaning in, he lowers his voice. "Were you planking someone?"

"I wish." I roll my eyes. "I actually was suspended for a month and haven't been back since."

"What'd you do?"

"Nothing, I swear!" I proclaim my innocence a little too loudly. "I was merely informing someone that it would be more sanitary if they didn't sit on the locker-room bench sans undergarments."

He lifts a brow in question. "What did you really say? Not in lawyer speak."

"I told her to get her labia off the bench." He covers his face with his hands, and his body shakes the entire booth with his quiet laughter. "I mean seriously, it's bad enough the Golden Girl feels the need to prance around the locker-room naked, she doesn't need to rub her crusty vag on public surfaces as well." I pick up my coffee cup and take a small sip before adding, "Truly, it's like the female version of tea-bagging. She should've been the one asked to leave."

We eat our slices, drink our coffee, and loiter until the waitress not-so-subtly slaps a check on our table. I guess this is our cue to get the fuck out.

"Thank you for the pie," I say as we walk back to our cars.

"Thank _you_ for the invite," he replies, those dimples coming out in full force. "And for the massive boner killer visual. I think that'll come in real handy for me."

"You're very welcome. This is me." I point to my BMW and unlock the doors. "So I'll see you next Tuesday?"

He nods, shoving his hands into his pockets again. "Sure, unless you want to come to the gym, do a quick session with me?"

I smirk, wondering if I'm being propositioned. "Would this be a plank-free session?"

He chuckles quietly and if I were a betting man, I'd say he's blushing. "Plank free, unless you want to plank," he mumbles, looking down and away.

Plank me, he _is_ blushing. "Do you have a card?"

He pulls his wallet out of his pocket and fishes out a card. "This is my cell number." He points a thick finger and I can't remove my eyes from its girth long enough to hear the words coming out of his mouth.

"Rose?"

"What?"

"So you'll call me?" He asks hopefully.

"We'll see. Goodnight, Emmett."

A couple of days later, I'm at my office reviewing some contracts when I receive a text from an unknown number. A picture of an elderly woman on a treadmill pops up on my screen, and I know it's from him. Seconds later another text comes through.

_Is this the culprit?_

Shockingly, I text him back immediately without giving pause to consider the clear information breach committed to obtain my number. I admit, I'm a little happy to hear from him.

_Wrong Golden Girl. Try a little less Blanche and a little more Dorothy. How did you get my number?_

My phone vibrates a few moments later.

_You have a membership with the gym. I wanted to offer you a complimentary session with me. Please don't sue us._

The texting is getting tedious so I dial his number.

"Hello."

"So when do you want to do this?" I ask, pulling off my glasses and leaning back in my chair.

"We can do this whenever you want." His voice is low and deep and faintly suggestive.

"Do you work evenings?"

"Sunday and Monday nights until close at 9:00 PM"

"How long are your sessions?"

"An hour or two. However long you can go."

_Definitely suggestive_. "Let's go for two. Put me down for Monday night at seven."

Dr. Whitlock clears his throat and interrupts my story before capturing one of my knights. "So far it all sounds like an easy friendship." He looks up at me, gauging my reaction to his assessment. "Bordering on something more, maybe?"

I shake my head and advance my rook. "Nope. Sorry Chuck Woolery, still no Love Connection."

He scoots up and moves his bishop. "Alright then, so when did things go from friendly to… a more gray area?"

"A couple of nights later." I bite my thumb nail nervously, noting his slip up with the bishop. "We'd been texting back and forth, on and off since the initial phone call." I slide a pawn forward, sacrificing it to set him up before shooting him a warning look. "It gets pretty… _rough_ from here on out. Are you sure you want the story?"

"I assure you that there is nothing you can tell me that I've not seen or heard before." He captures my pawn with his bishop before realizing his mistake. "Dang it." I slide my remaining knight up and over and pull the bishop from the board. "Well played," he says, motioning for me to continue.

I resume my story, telling him about our back and forth texts from the days prior. General bullshit and more getting to know you stuff mostly. When it comes time to tell him about the night that things went from social to sexual, I take a deep breath and exhale slowly. Flickers and images play in my head as I divulge every delicious and depraved detail.

I scrape the last of the Ben & Jerry's ice cream from the bottom of the pint and pretend that it isn't my second one of the evening. Don't even get me started on the bottle of wine I polished off earlier. Pure boredom and no peen doesn't make Rosie a dull girl, it just turns me into a fucking bottomless pit. I eye the treadmill where I spend most of my nights these days, working off the calories and distracting myself from acting on my 'inappropriate impulses'. Sure running a few miles can produce endorphins, but give me four AA batteries and a quiet room with my vibrator and I'll bet I can produce the same amount in about twelve minutes.

Sighing, I toss the empty pint in the garbage can and go back to the piles of work spread all over my countertop. Just as I'm about to jump back into my riveting Friday night read, a forty page licensing agreement, my phone buzzes. Truthfully, I feel a surge of excitement. After thirty-eight days of sexually sober living, any text after 11:00 pm feels both scandalous and promising, especially when I see his name pop up on my screen.

_You up?_

Yep_._

_Me too._

I text back the word 'obviously' and snort at his lame attempt at conversation. Thumbing to my contacts page, I'm just about to call him when his next message comes in.

_Yeah, obviously._

His text is accompanied by a picture of him from the chest down, shirt off, wearing basketball shorts and a massive, protruding hard-on lying against his thigh_. _

I stare and zoom in and out of the shot. My eyes roam down his perfectly sculpted abs with the smattering of dark hair to the outline of his thick length with the hint of a vein trailing nearly to the fat mushroom tip. I squeeze my thighs together and resist the urge to ask him to let me see it. Instead, I type back my typical snark.

_Crusty labia._

The phone buzzes seconds later and I laugh at his response.

_Not even Dorothy's cunt can kill this boner, baby. I need your help._

He wants my help. Thoughts of all the ways I can _help_ him with that fill my head and the squeezing of my thighs turns to squirming.

_How can I help?_

Moments later he replies with another cryptic message_. _

_Show me something._

I need specifics so I prod him_. _

_What do you want to see?_

A few minutes pass when he finally responds_. _

_Show me something tight I can fuck._

And there it is. We're finally showing ourselves, our true selves. We're revealing the person inside of us, the one who's controlled by the craving and powerless to the need.

Without a thought, I remove my top, press my tits together, and snap a shot in my nearly see through push-up bra. I quickly hit the send button so I don't have time to think about my lack of impulse control.

Several minutes pass with no word from him. Insecurity sets in and I second guess myself, looking at the picture I sent making sure that the girls look proportional and pert and penetration-worthy. After the ten minute mark, I send him another text.

_Please don't tell me that my tits killed your boner, but elderly pussy talk didn't. _

When my phone buzzes, there is no text, just a video attachment. I hit the play button, and the screen fills with his chest then pans down to his waist where the basketball shorts are nowhere to be found. It's just him - solid and thick and desperate for relief.

My fingers dip between my legs rubbing over the nearly soaked crotch of my panties at the sight of him steadily sliding his hand up over his cock. Up and down, nice and slow, he strokes it for me while I grind my clit against the heel of my hand.

His movements are precise, starting with a tight grasp of the base and ending with a loose twist and turn beneath the head. Every now and again, he swipes his leaking tip with his thumb and spreads it over the shaft, leaving his length shiny and sticky and oddly delicious-looking.

Soft grunts match the slap of skin while he works it over faster and faster until I hear him grit out a low 'fuck' just before his stomach flexes and his hips thrust up. Three white spurts spatter over his abs and trickle down the indentations of his muscles before settling at the base of his 'V'.

I go to play the video again when his final message of the evening comes through.

_Thanks for your help. See you Monday. GN._

"Wait a second." Dr. Whitlock cuts me off as he flips through the pages of my file, looking for something. "I didn't think that exhibitionism was one of your compulsions."

"That's because it wasn't." I braid my hair nervously. "I've never had the inclination to send a nude picture to anyone. I've always been very careful about keeping some semblance of control with regards to my behavior in that respect. I don't take or post pictures or fuck in public." Dr. Whitlock tilts his head looking like he's going to contradict me, so I amend. "By in public, I mean in plain sight with the intent to be seen. Yes, I've fucked in places accessible to the public like board rooms or in a car, but I don't get off on being watched." Indignant now, I cross my arms over my chest. "I have a professional reputation to maintain, now more than ever."

"So why did you do that?"

I tuck my now bouncing leg under my body and lean into the arm of the chair. "You tell me, doc."

He tosses my file back on the table and resumes our game. "Did you find yourself falling back to your old patterns after this incident?"

I nod, watching him make his move. "Um, yeah. I watched the video repeatedly and … pleasured myself while doing so. It became difficult to not want to do that."

"Previously, how did you resist falling back into those old habits?"

"I tried to keep myself busy so I couldn't fixate on it. I ran ridiculous amounts of miles on my treadmill after eating my weight in anything I could get my hands on."

Nodding his head, he sits back, resting his ankle on his knee. "So you tried to compensate by indulging in other areas like excessive eating and exercise to curb your urges?"

"Yes, but that doesn't seem to work anymore." I lick my lips and stare at the ceiling trying to describe it. "It's like something snapped. I mean sex is always on my mind, but the fantasies are more frequent and seem to be more extreme if that makes sense. Like before it was just about me getting off as often as I could to get that high. I knew exactly what I needed and once I got it, I was satiated for a certain amount of time. But now," I pause and shake my head unable to finish.

"It's escalating?"

My voice is pathetic and weak like me. "Yes."

"So when did you see or hear from him next?"

"Uh, not until I showed up for my session at the gym."

"What happened then?"

I clear my throat and launch into the story again, going back to the day of our workout session. I remember him being the picture of professionalism when he greeted me, putting on quite the show with the handshake and 'how do you do's' for the girls at the front desk. Once he gets me alone, all pretense is gone.

"You ready to get sweaty, Hale?"

I don't miss the double entendre of his question, and I hope he finds my response equally provocative.

"Let's do this."

We start with basic arm and neck stretches. The typical overhead, side-to-side, and pull from left-to-right. I feel his eyes on me while he circles, instructing and encouraging me while his eyes rake over my body.

"Alright, go ahead and spread your legs a bit." He slides up behind me and places his fingertips at my hips. "Bend at the waist, hands on the floor." Our eyes meet in the mirror and he watches me while my body bows before him. "That's exactly how I want you." His voice dips lower. "Just like that."

After doing a few more exercises that require my ass in the air, he has me lie on the floor which I welcome, trying to get the blood flow back to my brain. I'm not sure if it's the lack of blood, but I get dizzy when he kneels over me.

"Now I'm gonna stretch you out, properly." He gently grabs my foot and places it against his shoulder before pressing my knee to my chest using his body weight. Hard and heavy, his cock is situated right along my thigh, dangerously close to where I want him most. "You feel that?"

I nod absently, feeling both the burn and him hardening between us.

"I'll bet you do, you're awful tight through here." His free hand slides from my knee to my inner thigh and back. "I need to loosen you up."

"I'm pretty flexible."

He lowers his mouth near my ear. "I'm counting on it."

For the next hour and a half, he tortures me with stretches, calisthenics, and lifting. His touches are hardly subtle with a breast graze here and an ass grab there. It's the most painful kind of foreplay. I have no intention of stopping until I hear the voice of the front desk girl over the loud speaker, letting us know the gym is closing.

"So what did ya' think? Was I too hard on you?"

Panting and sweating like a pig, I take a gulp from my water bottle. "Brutal," I admit, still trying to catch my breath. "Do I have time to shower?"

"Yeah, take your time. I'm gonna lock up."

Thankfully, the locker-room is empty and naked _Golden Girl _free. I let the warm water wash over me, soothing my muscles from the savage training I just endured. Steam surrounds me as I scrub my skin and fight the urge to give my lady bits a workout of their own, when I hear the door lock.

Fearing that I've been locked in, I rinse quickly and throw a towel around me.

"Hello," I yell and my voice echoes throughout the shower area.

The section near the door of the locker-room goes dark, and I nearly shit when I hear a set of footsteps approaching.

"Hello? Who's there?"

I cower near the shower area entrance, clutching my towel.

"It's me," he says, surprising me coming out of a row of lockers.

"You nearly gave me a fucking heart attack," I snap, smacking him repeatedly on the chest. My towel slips in the process, and I barely catch it before giving him an eyeful of the goods.

"Aww, don't be shy now, Rose," he teases, coming toward me again. "It's nothing I haven't seen before. And besides," he smirks and taps his temple, "I've been fucking your tits for days."

I clamp my lips together trying to suppress a whimper when he cups my cheek and presses his mouth against the other side of my face.

"Did you like what you did to me, Rose?" He places a small kiss on the corner of my mouth. "I'll bet you did, didn't you?" My tongue wets my lip just before his thumb swipes it. "Have you been thinking of me?"

I nod slowly as he pulls my bottom lip down and slips his thumb in my mouth, opening it wide.

"I've been thinking about you, too," he admits quietly, sliding his thumb and forefinger over my teeth and tongue. "Imagining all the things I can do to you." I moan and shut my eyes tightly. "All the filthy fucking ways we can use each other."

"I shouldn't," I whisper when he removes his fingers and trails them down my throat, but the coy smile on my face lets him know that I'm more than willing to _use_ him.

I feel him chuckle against my cheek. "That's right. Your abstinence commitment." There's a tinge of sarcasm in his tone. "How long has it been?"

"Forty some odd days, I think."

Still smiling, he gently wraps his hand around my neck. "Now that's just a shame. Forty days and forty fuck-free nights."

He rests his forehead against mine and cups me below, roughly pressing the towel into my clit.

"Whenever you're ready, Rose. I'm waiting on you."

I open my eyes and see his staring back at me. I don't know why, but I decide to pour gasoline on the fire with my next words. "You seem awful sure of yourself." I throw him a doubting look and a challenge. "I'm not sure you can give me what I need."

He tosses his head back, silently laughing, momentarily amused by my defiance until his eyes are on mine again. His hold on my throat tightens ever so slightly. "I'm going to thoroughly enjoy fucking that smart mouth of yours." His face turns serious. "And if you think that workout I gave you tonight was brutal …" He shakes his head slowly and grips my center tightly. "Then you have no idea what I am capable of when it comes to this pussy."

Releasing me, he walks backwards a few feet and the playful smile returns. Clearly, he's pleased with himself getting the reaction he wanted.

"Come find me when you're ready."

Dr. Whitlock accidentally knocks one of his pawns over and the clatter of the piece on the marble board jars me from the memory, bringing me back to the present. "Sorry about that," he says, rearranging the pieces. "So you resisted?"

"I did," I say, smoothing my dress down my thighs. "That time."

"How long did you wait until you gave in?"

"Four days."

"And how did you cope over those four days? How did you manage?"

I slide my queen up. "Uh, let's see. That was Monday so Tuesday morning I went to work early, stayed late. Then I went to my meeting and actually participated for a change - big help that was." I huff and tuck my hair behind my ear. "Went to the diner, ordered a whole fucking pie to go. Went home, ate it all in one sitting, and then hopped on my treadmill."

"He wasn't at the meeting?"

"Obviously not, otherwise I'd have fucked him on the sign-in sheet." Dr. Whitlock gives me a somewhat reproachful look. "Sorry, you know what I mean."

"Continue with how you coped for the rest of that week."

"More of the same. I increased my hours in the office. Binged and ate massive intakes of food followed by hours of exercise. Watched some porn. I even fucking joined Pinterest for Christ's sake." I roll my eyes at myself for getting sucked into that nightmare.

"Back up for a moment, you said you watched some porn. Are we talking an unhealthy amount here?"

"Define unhealthy."

"Any amount is unhealthy for someone attempting to abstain from their compulsion."

Although the 'duh' in his statement is implied, the 'go fuck yourself' in mine is far more obvious. "Then I guess it was unhealthy, wasn't it?"

He holds his hands up in surrender and motions for me to continue.

"So anyway, that Friday I had lunch with an old friend and client. Lunch became happy hour and before I knew it, I was meeting her out at a club later that evening."

Dr. Whitlock hesitates as he goes to move his remaining bishop. He's fucked and he knows it, but I respect him for going out in a blaze of glory.

"Somewhere between the salad and the drinks, I decided I didn't give a shit anymore." Bringing my queen forward again, I remove his bishop from the board. "I took a tab of 'X' and sent him a text that I was at Lavo."

"'X' as in Ecstasy?"

"Yep. I put a tab on my tongue and sent him a picture telling him to 'come find me'." I roll my eyes, snickering at my antics. "I suppose I was feeling a bit theatrical."

Dr. Whitlock's poker face is back, empty and expressionless and wanting me to get on with it. I think back to that night and begin relaying the events, starting with the moment the 'X' kicked in at the club.

Strobe lights flicker over sweaty swaying bodies on the dance floor. Flashes of neon whirl all around from the tourists who still think adding a glow stick to the mix will somehow improve their lame ass dance moves. Booming beats pulse and pound, vibrating the railing I'm holding while moving to the music.

Heidi has my other hand in hers as we dance side-by-side. Palm to palm, our fingers are entwined and her soft skin feels amazing on mine. Our bodies brush against each other in time to the music and it causes the most incredible prickling sensation throughout, positively euphoric. I throw my head back, letting the intensity of the sounds and colors hypnotize and overwhelm my senses.

Warmth spreads over me when I feel a hand cover my throat and another slip over my eyes.

Soft lips skim the shell of my ear and whisper the words I've been waiting to hear all night.

"Found you."

Moaning softly, I lean my back into his chest and inch my fingers up, burying them in his hair. His pelvis rolls against my backside while his hands ghost down the length of my body, resting gently on my hip bones. Heidi looks on longingly as he places open-mouth kisses down my neck before nibbling on the soft round edge of my shoulder. He must feel her eyes on him.

"Looks like your friend wants to join us."

I feel the side of his mouth curve into a sinful smile, watching Heidi dance seductively, running her hands all over her body, obviously amiable to the possibility of a 'one pole, two holes' party.

Unfortunately for her, I'm not.

I slide my hand down to his cheek, rubbing my thumb into his dimple, and give Heidi an apologetic shrug. "I don't share."

He grinds into me possessively, tightening his grip to hold me in place. "Neither do I." I don't believe him for a second, but I'm enjoying the feel of his fingers tracing down the seam of my dress far too much to call him on it. "Do you want to get out of here?" I nod, unable to articulate a simple 'yes' when he's tickling and teasing the tender skin of my inner thigh. "Tell me what you want, Rose," he commands, dipping his hand between my legs. "I want to hear you say it."

I want the same thing he wants. The same thing he needs. The mutual craving we've yet to satisfy on our own or with each other. I wet my lips and say the one word he's demanding to hear.

"More."

The car ride to his house is relatively silent, save for the rumble of the old Bronco engine anytime he gives it some gas. His hand is covering my thigh, inching my dress up with each pass. I stare out the window, watching as we move further and further from the glitz of the strip. The streets are no longer lined with bright lights, dancing fountains, or thrill-seeking tourists. Instead, these streets are dimly lit with cracked pavement and tagged walls.

"You need a _real_ date, Sugar?"

A busted up hooker approaches our car at a light, resting her arms on my window ledge and leaning in to proposition Emmett. Lifeless blonde hair surrounds her skeletally thin face, though I think she may have been a looker at some point in her life. Now she's sporting a fresh shiner underneath a layer of foundation on her cheek, while scrapes and bruises color her elbows and knees.

I sometimes think I'm no different than someone in her profession. We're both trying to fulfill a need through a series of lousy, unsatisfying screws with nameless, faceless strangers. The only difference is that I do it for the thrill of the fuck, while she does it for the green of the buck. I'll bet if I hit rock bottom, the line between she and I would be razor thin and too easy to cross. I don't know what I find more alarming, my utter indifference at this legitimate comparison and its consequences, or the fact that I can't seem to stop myself.

We pull away and I eye her in the rear-view mirror. Fear and desperation are now evident in her features. It's then I notice a man stepping out of the shadowed doorway. She hunches, bracing for the impact. I look away. I guess we all have consequences for doing what we need to do to get by.

Emmett cuts the engine in front of a pawn shop. "Home sweet home." I eye the building warily, something about the graffiti sprayed accordion gate across the storefront screams 'warning' to me.

My expression must be priceless, because he just smiles at me and shakes his head. "You'll be fine, princess."

He leads me up three flights of stairs to the top floor and opens the door for me. Home sweet home is a bit of an overstatement on his part. More like home sweet shithole. It's an oversized one-room efficiency and totally basic. A weight bench and workout equipment litter an area near the wide open windows, while an unmade full-size mattress, box spring, and frame serve as the focal point of the room. There's a loveseat opposite an entertainment center housing a huge TV which clearly cost more than everything he owns.

"Uh, the air conditioning has been out the past couple of weeks," he says, almost embarrassed, switching on an oscillating fan in one corner of the room. "Can I get you anything to drink?"

I shake my head 'no' and unzip my dress letting if fall to the floor, making my way to the bed undressing the entire way. "This isn't a social call," I tell him, kneeling on the edge of the mattress.

His darkening eyes trail down my body, taking me in as he bends to turn on a box fan on the floor, positioning it to face the bed. The small burst of air feels phenomenal against my skin, and my nipples pucker at the chilly sensation. My hands drift up, circling them softly in invitation.

Apparently, that's all the invitation he needs, pulling his shirt over his head and freeing himself from his jeans until he's standing before me, hardening and nearly ready. I place my hand over his heart feeling it thunder in his chest and slowly slide my fingers down his stomach, watching as I skim the straining muscles.

He softly runs a fingertip down my cheek, tilting my chin to kiss me sweetly.

"Don't!" I jerk my head away. "Don't make this about _that_."

He holds his hands up in surrender, defending the gesture. "I was just trying to be a gentleman."

Reaching up, I grab the back of his head, bringing his mouth close to mine and roughly pull his bottom lip between my teeth causing him to hiss.

"Don't be."

Understanding is evident in his narrowing eyes and his lips curl into a wicked grin. He kneels before me, attacking my chest with his mouth, sweeping his tongue across and around my nipples before sucking each roughly. The fan blows cool air over the wet flesh, and I moan as they painfully pebble beneath his touch. Apart from the hum of the spinning blades, the only sound that can be heard in the room is the laving and licking of his tongue between the valley of my breasts, wetting it thoroughly, letting his saliva trickle and trail down to my stomach.

Fisting his hand in my hair, he takes a hold of my head and stands over me, stroking his cock. "Let me fuck your tits," he grits out through clenched teeth, rubbing the head of his dick over each of my nipples.

I watch him slide himself into the wetness between my tits before I press them together, trapping his thickness tightly. Slowly at first, he thrusts his hips in and out; the head of his dick playing peek-a-boo as it escapes its confines, enticing me to lean forward and lick it with every stroke. He picks up the pace, grunting in time with the slap of his thighs against my stomach. A soft moan escapes my lips when he snakes his hand down to play with my nipple, tweaking and twisting it sharply before moving to the other.

"You like that?" His voice is hoarse, coming out in a gruff whisper as his fingers torturously tease me. I nod and dart my tongue out, licking off the small bead of pre-cum forming on his tip and angling myself to get my lips around him despite the hold he has on me. I feel his hand wind around in my hair, tightening his grip and pulling my head back roughly, forcing my eyes to meet his. "Answer me!"

I smirk at his command, finding myself both amused and turned on by his show of dominance. "Yes," I speak softly, grabbing his length to bring it to my lips. "I do."

His sucks in a sharp breath and loosens his hold on my head when he sees my lips part. "Tell me what you want." My eyes are locked on his when he rubs his tip back and forth across my bottom lip.

"Why don't you tell me what _you_ want?" I challenge, pulling away from him to rest on my haunches, running a finger up over my breast before slowly sucking it into my mouth and releasing it with a pop.

"Your mouth." I barely hear the words over the sound of his fist furiously stroking his dick. "I want to fuck your mouth."

I make a show of getting on all fours, then slowly rolling onto my back, letting my head hang over the side of the mattress in front of him. I hear him curse under his breath when he positions himself over me, tapping his cock on my lips. I smile victoriously before opening my mouth wide in welcome.

I close my eyes when he glides it in slowly, stretching my jaw and taking as much of him in my mouth as I can. His thighs quiver slightly when he reaches the back of my throat and he gives a tentative push, pressing himself a bit further. My tongue teases along his veins when he withdraws, and I wrap my hand around his balls, rolling them gently in my palm.

"Yeah," he gasps roughly at the feel of my teeth grazing his length. His hips move harder and faster, while his free hand reaches down to pinch and twist my nipples, causing me to whimper in both pain and pleasure. "That's it. Suck me." Hollowing out my cheeks, I hum around him, feeling his thrusts become erratic as I shamelessly let him fuck my face until he's had his fill.

Ripping his cock from my throat, he roars out his release, exploding over my chin and chest. "Goddamn," he pants, stepping back on seemingly weak legs. Smiling smugly, he tosses a t-shirt to me in lieu of a towel before collapsing on the middle of the bed.

"Feel good?" I ask, wiping his cum from my chest. Nodding slowly, he eyes me and I know he's not even close to being done with me yet. "Good." I toss the t-shirt to the ground and straddle his thighs. "My turn."

"You gotta give me a minute," he says with a small chuckle.

I trace the lines of his muscles with my finger and continue climbing his body. "No." I place my knees on either side of his head. "I don't." Grabbing a fistful of his hair, I lower myself onto his mouth. "Now get me off."

Sliding his hands beneath my thighs, his fingers dig into my skin and spread me crudely until I'm hovering over his parted lips. He pauses and I feel him inhaling and exhaling deeply across the sensitive flesh. Fraught with anticipation, I look down to find him staring back at me, amusement evident in his eyes. I grip his hair tighter and groan in frustration, which quickly turns to a desperate mewl when he flattens and drags his tongue over my slit.

Loosening his grip, my hips rock back and forth over his mouth and grind down as he slides and teases his tongue at my entrance. The mattress springs creak beneath us with each thrust. Unable to maintain my balance, I brace myself against the wall. I close my eyes and throw my head back, enjoying the feel of his frenzied feeding below.

He lifts me slightly and plunges his tongue deep inside. I circle and buck my hips over him, pressing my palms roughly into the textured drywall. Drawing a shaky breath, my eyes pop open and fix themselves on the crucifix banging against the wall in front of me just as he captures my clit, sucking it hard into his mouth. "Oh God, yes!"

Panting and chanting the Lord's name, I shiver and tremble, feeling the telltale signs of my climax spreading like wildfire over my skin. He snarls below, devouring and consuming me. Nipping and grazing me with his teeth, until I scream out my release on his tongue.

Gasping for air, I collapse on the bed, tremors of pleasure still ripping through me. I barely have time to contemplate the fact that I'm surely going to hell for the literal come-to-Jesus moment, when I feel him move to kneel beside me. Smiling wide, he removes the evidence of me with a quick swipe of his fingers over the corners of his mouth.

"My turn," he repeats my words and rolls me over, lying me flat against the mattress. He runs his tongue over the edge of my jaw, and nuzzles his nose against my ear before sucking my lobe into his mouth. "You know what I want you to do for me, Rose?" I shake my head and feel his length hard and straining on the back of my thigh. His breath comes out in harsh pants as he inches my lower half off of the bed just slightly and positions himself at my entrance. "Scream for me."

In one swift move, he's deep inside of me, filling and stretching me like never before. My shrieks are muffled by the mattress as he furiously pounds into me from behind. His thrusts are forceful, unrelenting, and I can hear him coming unhinged with every stroke. He murmurs his filthy thoughts aloud against my ear, and I clench around him when he orders me to beg for his cock.

I beg and shamelessly plead as my fingers clutch and fist the fitted sheet at the corners of the bed, tearing it off in my desperation to brace myself. The sweaty skin of his stomach and thighs slap and slide against mine when he grinds into me, all the while he's still in my ear, claiming my pussy as his own and demanding that I tell him it's his.

Pulling out, he turns me over to look at him. "Say it!" He grabs the back of my knees and brings them to my chest, resting my ankles on his shoulders. "Whose pussy is this?" He slips two thick fingers inside, curling them roughly. "Say it!"

"Yours," I mumble, trying to catch my breath.

Replacing his fingers with the tip of his cock, he teases my slit. "Louder!"

"Yours!"

Smirking smugly, he dips the tip in a bit. "My what?"

"Pussy." I run my hand down my stomach and circle my clit with my fingers. I pull my lip through my teeth before continuing in a breathy whisper. "_Your_ pussy."

"You're goddamn right it is." His hand moves to my neck, lightly holding me in place as he presses into me once again. My back arches off the bed, lifting my hips to greedily take what he's so ferociously giving. "So close, baby!"

Every inch of him is tensed, from the strain of his jaw to the rigid flex of his muscles. My fingers claw at him, tearing and raking down his back, marking him as I cry out with each and every brutal thrust.

He hisses and tightens his grip on my hip, fury flashing briefly in his eyes, baring his teeth as he plunges deeper.

"Harder," I moan out, my need deliciously close to being sated. He goes wild above me, taking me roughly, spurring me on with the raw, animalistic growls and grunts he's spewing against my skin. I feel my body stir. White hot flames consume me, igniting every inch of me. My cries go from deafening to earsplitting when I clench around him, relishing the feel of him stiffening and jerking deep inside of me.

He collapses and slumps over me, crushing me with his weight as I continue to come apart beneath him. I admit that I miss it immediately when he rolls off of me a few moments later. The fan blows over us, cooling our heated flesh and drowning out the sounds of our harsh breathing. For several minutes, we both stare at the ceiling in silence. I close my eyes, savoring the feeling that there's no craving or need to be satisfied, no thirst to be quenched for the time being.

All the while I'm wondering how fast he can get hard again, because I don't want this feeling to end, not ready for the emptiness to set in. He leans up on an elbow and runs the palm of his hand down over my body, following every inch with his gaze, and when he looks back up at me, I see another frenzy building and hear his simple demand.

"More."

I hear a click of a pen and look up to find Dr. Whitlock jotting a note into my file. His brow is furrowed, concern evident on his face for the first time since our session began.

"So, that happened … repeatedly over the past three days," I mention casually, just in case wearing the same clothes days later isn't glaringly obvious to him. "Your move, doc."

He looks up from my file. "You didn't mention taking any precautions."

I shrug. "I've got the pill and a prayer."

He shakes his head and tosses my file back on the couch. "Unfortunately for you, those don't protect you from STDs."

I roll my eyes, partially annoyed at the health lecture and secretly mortified that the thought never crossed my mind in my haste to get my fix - repeatedly. So I lie. "He told me he's clean."

The accusing brow lifts again, silently calling me out. "Right, well…you may want to get checked out just in case." Unable to find a way to put off the inevitable any longer, he sacrifices his queen. "So how are you feeling about the fact that you've relapsed?"

"Indifferent," I tell him honestly and I see him tilt his head in question. "I feel … nothing." My phone buzzes against my leg, strengthening my resolve. "I mean, I get it. I know all your textbooks say that I probably feel shame or like a failure because I turn to the addiction to relieve the pain that's _caused_ by the addiction." I draw a circle with my finger. "It's a vicious cycle or whatever."

"It is," he says solemnly, leaning forward to level with me. "But you don't have to get caught in the cycle. There are alternatives to the choices you're making." I stare at him blankly. "There's prevention and rehabilitation programs that will help you learn the coping skills to prevent these types of slip-ups." I pick up my queen, clutching it tightly. "Now ultimately, the choice is yours." He weighs my options in his upturned palms. "Recovery or addiction?"

My phone vibrates again, spurring me on as I knock his queen over sending it clattering against the chessboard. "Checkmate."

We watch the piece spin on the board until it he stops it with his fingers. "What's the endgame here, Rosalie? What is it that you hope to get out of all this?"

The pulsing of my phone is incessant, unrelenting much like my urges. I don't know what the endgame is, but I do know what I hope to get out of all of this.

_The only thing I want. The one thing I need. _

"More."


	4. Pride

**_Pride:_** ___noun__ \ˈprīd\__ (Latin - Superbia) _

1 : unreasonable and inordinate self-esteem (personified as one of the seven deadly sins)

2 : a feeling that you are more important or better than other people

* * *

"Mr. Cullen," the detective said gruffly from my office door. "You'll need to come with us."

He was flanked by two uniformed officers and dressed in a stereotypically cheap suit: ill-fitting and obviously off the rack. That suit offended me more than his ridiculous moustache, more than his audacity in thinking that he was going to take me in. _Me_.

The officers had their hands on their guns, ready to draw on the big, bad Edward Cullen, CEO of one the country's most successful and powerful companies. It made me smile.

"Detective Swan," I said coolly from behind my massive desk. It was one of the only pieces of furniture in my office, other than a small seating group and a large, wooden conference table in the corner, oval-shaped and polished to a high sheen. "Back again? I don't suppose you brought a subpoena this time?"

I was laughing at him, at _them_, and their faces simultaneously turned red. This was not their first visit to my office, and they usually left pissed off and frustrated. Sure, they might be confident that, _this time_, they had all the evidence in the world, as well as the paperwork allowing them to arrest me, but they truly knew so little about me. About who I really was. About what I could do.

No time like the present.

Detective Swan quickly regained his composure and pulled a folded wad of papers from inside his jacket. He proudly held them up for me to see.

"Actually, Mr. Cullen, that's what this is, right here." He lifted the paperwork a little, waggling it in the air to help make his point. That was his first mistake - he was holding the subpoena in his right hand… his _gun _hand. Something he would sincerely regret in the very near future. He was looking somewhat overconfident, and he smiled at me, baring a mouth full of bad teeth, crooked and coffee-stained. "Judge Banner signed this himself, and it gives me the right to arrest you, take you in. Now."

The two officers stood a little taller and stepped further into my office. They were on alert, but they thought they had won.

"Do what you feel you must, Detective," I chuckled.

I stood up and started walking around the front of the desk to meet them. I straightened my custom-made, expensive suit jacket, smoothed down my custom-made, equally expensive pants, and started plotting in my head. I was already ten steps ahead of them. "You'll want to handcuff me, I'm sure," I said with false innocence, "so you can have your little moment parading me in front of my staff. And with the press downstairs! Your big moment. Picture in the paper. Medal from the Commissioner. Your mother will be so proud."

Time started to slow down for me, allowing me to plot and plan. I could smell the three men's anticipation, their gloating triumph.

"I can't really blame you, Detective." I was just a few feet away. Almost there. "Quite the accomplishment, after all your hard work. I suppose, in the end, you were just the better man," I sighed defeatedly.

I stopped right in front of them and slowly lifted my hands in supplication. I wanted them to think that I was voluntarily surrendering, that I would be docile, cooperative, an uneventful arrest.

Swan cleared his throat and affected his official detective voice.

"Mr. Cullen, you're under arrest for the murders of Michael Newton and Aro Volturi." The two officers stepped towards me, thinking they were strengthening their positions, but in actuality, severely reducing them. They still had their hands resting on their weapons, anxiously waiting to take me into custody. "You have the right to remain silent." I stared straight ahead, watching Detective Swan as he recited my Miranda rights. "Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law." The officers glanced at Swan, and then at each other, synchronizing their movements. "You have the right to an attorney." Office Number One pulled his gun from his holster and aimed it at me, directly. I had waited for this, this small moment of distraction, and when Officer Number Two moved his hand from his gun to reach for his handcuffs, I struck.

They never saw it coming. It was pitiful, really. I had assumed that the Commissioner would send his best and brightest to arrest such an evil criminal as myself, but there was no such person. I had no equal in this mortal world.

In one smooth and practiced motion, I grabbed Officer Number One's gun and flipped it around until it was pointing back at him. I shot him in the forehead, twice for good measure, then repeated the action on Officer Number Two. They immediately dropped to the ground, dead, like wet bags of cement.

So simple.

Then, before he knew what happened, I had the barrel of the gun pressed against Swan's temple. I watched his throat bob as he nervously swallowed, quickly accepting his fate. He knew me better than almost anyone. And he knew he was fucked.

"Detective," I said smoothly. "I'm afraid I must be going. So wonderful to see you again."

I gave him a moment to meet my eyes, to see what his last moments looked like in the rich, green irises of his nemesis, and I pulled the trigger.

* * *

"And the winner of the 2002 Forks High School 'Student of the Year' is… Edward Cullen!"

I smiled broadly as my name was announced, hearing the instant applause and roar of the crowd, and as I walked up to the stage, I graciously accepted offers of congratulations from my classmates. I was a senior in high school, and it was my fourth win in a row. The other students never had a chance.

I was young, intelligent, and physically perfect. I had a perfect face, perfect hair, a perfect body, and a perfect life. I won every prize, every contest. I had a perfect GPA, test scores off the chart, and an entire student body who worshiped me - the boys wanted to _be _me, and the girls wanted to be _with _me.

I had taken AP classes in high school, so I had a year's worth of college credit when I graduated. I got bored so easily back in Forks that I took on extra work to try to entertain myself. The girls in my high school AP classes weren't always the prettiest girls in the school, but it didn't take me long to figure out that they were the hungriest. They would do the dirty stuff that the pretty cheerleaders wouldn't do.

As I walked across the stage, I approached Principal Clearwater and extended one hand to shake and the other to receive the plaque he was proffering. My parents, Doctor Carlisle Cullen and his beautiful wife, interior decorator Esme Cullen, were on the front row, and I gave them the dazzling smile and the camera-ready moment they were waiting for. One would think they would get bored with my constant success, but they were just as thrilled, just as proud, every single time.

I acted the part - the gracious, humble son and friend - but only when I knew someone else was looking. When I got home that night, I threw the plaque in my closet, landing in a pile on the floor with the rest of my awards.

* * *

I got accepted to ten different Ivy League colleges, and I decided on the most expensive one, just for bragging rights. My parents were loaded, so money was never an issue. Rich, smart, and handsome. A dangerous combination. More dangerous than even_ I_ knew.

College was a breeze, just like high school, and I graduated with a perfect GPA, GRE scores through the roof, and offers from the best graduate schools in the country. Again, I chose the most expensive, and three years later, I was ready to join the workforce, to make my own fortune, and to finally take my place at the top of the corporate ladder.

Only the very best company would do, and after fielding a number of offers, I settled on the most successful technology firm in the country. I had interviewed with them four times - first with their HR person, a dowdy, older woman who eyed me like a piece of meat, then with the Executive Recruitment Director, a greasy middle-aged man who kept glancing at my crotch, then with the Executive Vice President of Marketing, and lastly, the CEO himself, the one and only Aro Volturi.

Every single one fawned over me. They tried to play it cool, standoffish, like they had several other candidates, like they would have to "think about it."

I was hired two days later as a Junior Account Executive in the Marketing Division, and I knew that it wouldn't take me long to make them see what everyone else did who knew me - that I was perfect, in every way, and that one day, I would run the company. I would own them all.

* * *

Four years later, I had nearly achieved my goal. I had moved quickly up the corporate ladder and was now one of the many Vice Presidents in the company, third tier from the top, Vice President of Marketing. Next, was Senior Vice President, then President and CEO. I had a large corner office on the Executive floor, but everything I wanted was one floor up. The top floor.

Aro Volturi had no idea what was coming for him.

* * *

"Angela!" I screamed from my massive leather office chair. The door to my office was closed, and I hoped she was paying attention.

The door opened a crack, just a few inches, and she peeked her head through.

"You called, Mr. Cullen?"

She was a great secretary, but meek as a fucking church mouse and scared of her own shadow. Why they decided to assign her to me, I'll never know. I sighed loudly and raked my fingers through my hair.

"No, Angela," I said sarcastically. "I yelled your name five seconds ago because I was bored." Sarcasm was completely lost on her. I only did it because I enjoyed her panicked, confused reaction. Every single time.

"Oh, sorry Mr. Cullen!" she squeaked, and started to close the door. "I'll just go back to my desk and -"

"_Angela!_" I said sharply. "Just get in here."

She stepped in the office and waited, standing in the open door. Her expression was a mixture of panic and hope. Hope for what, I don't know. There was no hope here. Not with me. Not anymore.

"Close the door," I said, meeting her wide, dark eyes.

She slowly pushed the heavy wooden door until I heard it catch, then scooted back until she was pressed against it, as far away from me as possible. Against the door might work another time, but not for what I had in mind currently.

"Now, lock it," I ordered.

Her eyes widened almost comically, which, of course, just fed my need, and she froze for a second. Then, she reached down, her hand shaking, and flipped the lock, the loud click audible even from my desk. She knew what was coming.

I stood up and walked around to the conference table. I pulled on the back of the chair at the head of the table, dragging it several feet away. I walked back to the table, standing in my newly-made clearing, and I motioned to her.

"Here," I said, pointing to the open space between me and the table.

She just stared, eyes wide, slack-jawed, and breathing hard. This wasn't the first time, so I don't know why she was surprised, why she hesitated. It was both frustrating and exhilarating, which was the only reason why I allowed it to continue.

"Angela," I said slowly. "Here. _Now_."

She blinked a couple of times and finally started to move. When she finally reached me, her back to the table, she started to speak. So softly, I could barely make out what she was saying.

"But, Mr. Cullen, I… you… last time, I said -"

"Angela, we talked about this." I lowered my voice and assumed a teasing, slightly flirtatious manner. Like I was coaxing her into it. Like I _needed _to. "You need this job. I pay you extremely well." I stepped closer to her and whispered in her ear. "And you always like it."

She whimpered softly, and for Angela, I knew what that meant. For other girls, it might be construed as a sound of fear, but for her? She was turned on. She always liked it. I mean, I was a son-of-a-bitch, but I wasn't a fucking rapist.

I grabbed her hips and turned her around until she was facing the table. I placed my hand on the middle of her back and gently pushed, indicating that I wanted her to bend over the table. I liked to fuck her in different places, but bent over my conference table was one of my favorites.

She was a little slow to move, so I kept gentle pressure on her back until she was pressed against the glowing, polished wood of the table. I tapped my foot once against the inside of her right foot, then repeated the action on the left. She immediately widened her stance.

I took a moment to savor the vision before me. Angela had long, beautiful legs, and she always wore heels to work. Nothing cheap, very professional, but astoundingly sexy considering her meek presentation.

As I slowly lifted her skirt, I knew what I would find, having been there several times before. She always wore a garter belt and stockings, the old-fashioned kind. I never really understood it, in this day and age, and her clothes were always demure and understated. But whatever her reason, I liked it. I really fucking liked it a lot.

Today was no different.

I reached the top of her nude-colored stockings until I saw her creamy, pale skin. So beautiful. It always pinked up nicely. Then, the curve of her ass. And those fucking sexy as hell panties she always wore, made of lace, the cheeks of her ass exposed. Shit. I was hard as a fucking rock. I pushed the skirt up to her waist, displaying her garter belt choice of the day. Very tasteful. A muted taupe with matching lace accents. Every time I pushed her skirt up, I would wonder who she was wearing this extensive lingerie collection for. It was most certainly not me.

I slid my fingers into the top of her panties and pulled them down, just enough, then I moved directly behind her and unbuckled my pants, letting them drop to the floor with the soft, metallic sound of keys touching coins. I gently rubbed the soft, sweet skin of her ass while I stroked my cock, still in my boxers.

"Ah, Angela," I whispered. "My sweet, sweet little toy. What a pretty little thing you are, laid out, just for me. Waiting, just for me."

Then, I spanked her once, and she fucking moaned. So I did it again. And again. Until she was pink and warm, writhing on my table, her ass in the air, begging for my dick.

"Look at you, you hungry little thing," I said as I slid my hand between her legs. She was slippery and warm, the spanking her foreplay. "And so ready for me."

I grabbed my cock in one hand, the other on her hip. I lined us up and slammed my cock deep inside her with one long, hard stroke.

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "Mr. Cullen! Yes!"

I fucked her hard and quick, holding nothing back. She started to speak, something about being close to coming, and I knew it was time. Time to wrap this up.

I used my free hand to spread the cheeks of her ass, just enough to see her tight, pink asshole, clenched tightly shut. I swiped my thumb across it, and she made a fantastic noise, like a scared animal, but she kept her legs spread for me. And she was squeezing her pussy around my dick even tighter.

So I rubbed across it again.

She sucked in a breath, but didn't move away from me.

I increased the speed and depth of my stroke, the sweat from my brow dripping down onto her back.

"I know you like it, Angela," I growled. "Fucking _relax_. Let me have it."

My thumb rubbed slow circles, pressing softly, but still denied.

"Angela," I said. "_Now_."

I was fucking ready to come, and I knew what would push me over the edge.

So I pressed again, and I felt her relax, just the tiniest bit, just enough for the tip of my thumb to enter her. She moaned softly, and she said something that sounded like "_yes_." I changed the angle of my stroke, just enough to break her concentration for a second or two, and I felt her give. I slid my thumb inside, turning it slowly, twisting it, and _watching _that, watching my thumb and my dick moving in concert inside this girl, made me come, quite spectacularly.

I took a moment to catch my breath, then I pulled out and buckled up my pants. I was halfway to my private bathroom to wash up when I heard her, still bent over the table with my come running down her leg.

"But, Mr. Cullen," she whimpered. "I didn't-"

"Angela," I said sharply, purposefully interrupting her plea. "We're done. Go back to your desk."

She lifted herself slowly up off the table, suddenly embarrassed by her nakedness, and quickly pulled herself together. She looked up at me, searching for some sign of human empathy, and finding none, she scurried quickly out the door, closing it behind her as she knew I would like.

Yes, I didn't let her come. I never do.

I'm such a bastard.

* * *

"I think we all agree," Aro crooned in his oily Italian accent, waving his hand in my direction. "That Mr. Cullen's project plan for the Berlin merger is far and away the clear choice for us." His hair was black and slicked back, down to his shoulders. His suit was impeccable, perfectly tailored to fit, the collar of his starched white shirt rubbing against his neck.

I had cozied up to Aro on my first day here, knowing that he was my eventual competition, but that I needed to keep him close until I was ready to make my move.

"Aro," I laughed heartily, ducking my head shyly. "You are too kind, my friend." I placed my hand on my heart in an effort at earnest and honest emotion. "It was really a team -"

"Seriously, Aro?" Mike Newton, my counterpart in the Finance Division, interrupted me yet again. "Fucking Cullen, _again_? Jesus. Sing a new song, for God's sake."

I held my tongue and waited to see what Aro would say. I knew I had this, had him in my pocket. It would only go down one way, and there would only be one man left standing. It was my full intention to be that man.

"Mr. Newton," Aro said with deceptive gentleness. "I will _not _have this discussion with you again, in public or in private." He glared at Newton, a vicious, angry look, and Newton shrank in his seat. Everyone was staring at him, at his repeated audacity in these meetings, so no one noticed the look of pure glee on my face. I sat back and enjoyed the show. "You will sit there and keep your fucking mouth shut, or you will leave this meeting and this floor until I allow you to return."

Holy shit, this was good.

"Well, Mr. Newton?" Aro sneered. "_Please_, enlighten us with your decision."

Newton shifted nervously in his seat, and looked desperately around the room, searching for an ally but finding none.

"Mr. Volturi, Sir," Newton pleaded pitifully. "I think Edward's plan is fine, and I'd like to stay if you'll have me. I think I can offer this team a-"

"_Mr. Cullen's_ plan is more than just fine, Mr. Newton," he interrupted. "It's pure fucking genius. And the fact that you can't see it, or worse, can't _admit _it, is just confirming my previous decision." He glared at Newton, who looked on, slack-jawed and stunned, at Aro's speech. "Please gather your things and leave us." Newton continued to stare, not moving. "_Now_, Mr. Newton."

Aro's security detail, two extremely large, thick-necked gentlemen in matching Armani suits, moved to the door, pulled it open, and waited for Newton to leave.

I watched the show before me, Aro's clear preference for me above all others, and I sat back in my chair. I inventoried the others in the room, mentally calculating everything I would have to do to eliminate each one, and I had to bite the inside of my cheek to force myself not to smile.

Newton stood up, gathered his papers, and shuffled slowly towards the door, sheepish and pathetic. It made me sick. I wondered if he thought Aro would save him at the last minute, pull him safely back into the fold.

He didn't, of course. He just smiled at me and continued the meeting.

"Now, _Edward_," he said in his sweet, thick voice. "Please excuse the interruption, and tell us about Berlin."

As I started to speak, to outline the project plan from my team that I had rewritten last night, I heard Newton muttering in his breath as he passed behind me. I couldn't make out what he was saying, except for an abundance of curse words mixed with two names - Aro's and mine.

Newton was going to be a problem.

* * *

"Angela," I barked into the intercom. "Call Lauren in Finance and have her come to my office, now."

"Yes, Sir, Mr. Cullen," she replied immediately.

I never asked her to call me "Sir," but fuck if I didn't love it. It gave me the most glorious feeling of power, of dominance over her, especially when she did it while I was fucking her.

I was only briefly into my fantasy of what I wanted to do to her later this afternoon, when Lauren arrived. She was the polar opposite of Angela… blonde, confident, flirtatious, sexy. She wanted me, and she never hesitated to let me know it.

She knocked once, then opened the door and walked in.

"Mr. Cullen," she said sweetly. "You needed me for something? What can I do for you?" She was such a little cocktease, licking her lips and batting her eyes. She should know by now that she didn't have to perform for me.

"You can come over here right now, and get on your knees."

"Yes, Sir, Mr. Cullen," she said with a giggle. She moved quickly to where I was sitting, behind my desk, and dropped to her knees.

I unbuckled my pants, popped the button, and lowered the zipper. My cock was hard and throbbing from watching her hot little mouth while she waited. Way too much lip gloss, but fuck if it didn't look good wrapped around my cock.

I held my dick in one hand and grabbed the back of her head with the other, and I pulled her down. She knew what to do without any instruction from me, and she did it well.

I leaned back in my chair and watched her work me with her expert little tongue, barely able to keep my eyes open.

There was a quick knocking on the door, three times in rapid succession, and then the door immediately opened. Whoever it was didn't wait for my permission to enter, and I should have been royally pissed, but I was so surprised by the action, and so relaxed from the sensation below my waist, that I didn't do a damn thing about it.

And then my life came screeching to a sudden and grinding halt.

Not the mouth on my dick, mind you, just everything I knew and believed about myself and my future.

"Mr. Cullen," the stunning brunette in the doorway said. "I hope I'm not interrupting."

Angela was right behind her with a horrified look on her face.

"I'm _so _sorry, Mr. Cullen, she just walked right in, and I -"

"It's alright, Angela, thank you. Please close the door on your way out."

I had no idea where I summoned the calm that I was exuding, but it was working.

"Now, Miss… ?" I asked with one of my best smiles. "I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage…"

Just then, Lauren, who was completely aware that there was another person in the room at the time, decided to scrape her teeth on her upstroke, and I groaned and lifted out of my chair. She knew how much I liked that, what it would do to me. I heard a muffled giggle, and I swore to myself that she would pay for that in the very near future.

"Are you alright, Mr. Cullen?" she asked with the sexiest fucking smirk I had ever seen. "Can I get you a glass of water or something?"

Jesus, her voice. It was thick and smoky, but deep and smooth. She was a tiny little thing, much shorter than me, and her voice was a complete contradiction and a pleasant surprise. I was worried that if she kept talking, I might come in Lauren's mouth right there on the spot.

"No, I'm… I'm fine," I said with a small catch in my breath. Fucking Lauren. She was doing it again, on purpose. "So, Miss…?"

"Oh!" she laughed suddenly, a beautiful, rich sound. "Of course." She looked down, somewhat shyly, then looked back up at me through her lashes. "I'm Isabella Black."

She paused then, waited for some sort of recognition, but I had no idea who she was. I raised my eyebrows in a silent question.

"I'm your new assistant. Mrs. Cope hired me." Mrs. Cope was the dowdy older woman in HR who mentally undressed me in my first interview, as well as every meeting since. "I actually don't start until tomorrow, _formally_, but I thought I'd come in early and see … ah… how things work here." She said that last bit with a punctuating chuckle, like she knew something, but I wasn't in on it.

This woman, this Isabella, was my new assistant? My assistant to do with whatever the fuck I wanted? Holy shit, I just hit the motherload.

She was absolutely perfect. Long, dark, wavy hair, reaching almost to her waist. She wore it loose, which was unusual in an office environment, but maybe that was just for today. Maybe tomorrow, she would have it pulled back. Maybe in a loose knot at the nape of her neck. Maybe in a tight, sleek ponytail. Jesus.

Her skin was luminous - fair and smooth and perfect. She had a heart shaped face, a full bottom lip, and large, dark eyes that a man could get lost in. Even a man like me.

She was petite, but shapely, with perfect breasts, a small waist, full hips, and long, _long _legs. She had a tight, little red dress on which clung to every delicious curve and matching red shoes. _Heels_. My kryptonite.

I realized that I was staring, having worked my way hungrily down her beautiful body, and when I looked back up and met her eyes, I realized she was smirking again, staring back at me. She didn't miss a thing.

I cleared my throat, nervously. Jesus, no one made me fucking nervous. Who the hell was this woman, and what was she doing to me?

"Miss Black," I started, but she quickly interrupted me.

"That's _Ms._ Black, Mr. Cullen," she said. "I'm divorced."

Divorced was good. Divorced was essentially single, except that someone had claimed her before me, but I would have to work through that another time.

"Excuse me, Ms. Black," I said, regaining my footing. "No offense intended."

"None taken," she immediately offered with a smile. "And please, call me Isabella."

Isabella. Yes. Beautiful.

"Alright, Isabella," I said with as much calm as I could muster, but I had to take control of the situation before it got completely out of hand. Starting tomorrow, I would have her at my beck and call, a prospect I would greatly look forward to. "It was a pleasure meeting you, and I look forward to seeing you tomorrow. I'm sure I can find something … _interesting _for you to do."

I returned her smile graciously, and just as she was turning to leave the room, Lauren decided to try another one of her little oral tricks, which I welcomed under normal circumstances. She was working furiously to try to make me come with Isabella in the room, and I was so close already, having already replaced Lauren with Isabella in my fantasy. I grabbed Lauren's hair a little tighter and shoved her down hard on my cock. She gurgled a little, just short of gagging, and the message was apparently received as intended. She backed off a little, slowed down just a bit, and I was able to return my full attention to Isabella.

"Thank you, Mr. Cullen," she said with a toss of that long, dark hair. "The pleasure was all mine."

Fuck, she was bringing me close to the edge of my orgasm without even touching me, and she had no idea what she was doing. Or so I thought.

Right before the door closed, she turned her head and looked at me over her shoulder.

"By the way, tell the girl under your desk that I _love _her shoes. I have the exact same pair. Maybe I'll wear them tomorrow." Then, she winked at me, and was gone.

Oh fuck, she knew. She knew the whole fucking time. I wasn't sure if that would be a good thing or a bad thing, but I knew I was about to come and come _hard_.

I grabbed Lauren's head with both hands and pulled and pushed her on me, faster and faster, until I exploded down her throat, holding her head firmly in place until I finished.

When I finally released her, she bolted upright and gasped, breathing heavily, and glaring angrily at me, but she didn't dare say a word. Instead, she stood quickly, smoothed down her skirt, and walked out of my office. She grabbed a tissue from my desk on her way out and wiped angrily at her mouth, threw the spent tissue on the floor, then slammed the door behind her.

I just sat there, pants unzipped, staring at the closed, wooden door. I kept remembering what she looked like as she stood there. Isabella. My new assistant. Damn. I couldn't help imagining what she would wear the next day, would it be tight? Would it reveal cleavage? Would she lean over my desk to show me some document and allow me to look down her shirt? Fuck, I hadn't been this easily aroused since high school. She spent less than five minutes in my presence, and I wanted her more than I ever wanted anyone in my life.

I had a feeling about her, though. She was different. Something was going to change.

* * *

I wore my new navy suit the next day, and I arrived extra early, just in case. Then, I sat in my chair and waited for her to appear before me.

By mid-morning, she had still not arrived, and I was _livid _that she was late on her first day at work. By noon, I was starting to panic, wondering if something had happened to her, if she had changed her mind after meeting me.

I couldn't wait any longer. I decided to have Angela make some calls, find out what had happened, when I heard a sudden commotion outside of my office. Laughter, both male and female. What the hell was going on? Had the entire company gone mad and forgotten who I was?

I bolted up from my desk and ripped the door open, fully intent on firing someone on the spot, when I saw Isabella. She was right there, right outside my office, holding an armful of files, and talking with Mike Newton. He was flanked by his two lackeys, Eric Yorkie and Ben Cheney, and they were all laughing. Even Angela. Until she saw my face, that is. She immediately stood, waiting for instruction, her face drained of color.

"Cullen!" Newton exclaimed, as if we were old friends. "I just met your new assistant," he said, gesturing to Isabella with an inappropriate level of friendliness. "And I must say, she's much easier on the eyes than you."

The four of them laughed again. Angela just stared, not even blinking.

"I found her downstairs in Shelley Cope's office in HR. It looked like Shelley was kidnapping the poor girl, so I offered my assistance, and escorted her up you."

He looked so proud of himself, obviously trying to impress Isabella.

"If I _ever _need your help, Newton, which is highly unlikely, I'll ask for it," I said dismissively in his direction. "Isabella," I said as I turned back to my office. "Come with me."

Someone must have made a face behind my back, and Newton's lackeys started to laugh. I chose to ignore him, to keep walking, because he was cutting into my personal time with Isabella on her first day.

"Shut the door behind you, Isabella."

I couldn't look at her yet. I was still incredibly pissed off that she made me wait, and even though it may not have been her fault, finding her talking and laughing with Mike Newton left me unable to forgive and forget.

"Mr. Cullen," she started. "I'm so sorry that I was late, but Mrs. Cope -"

"I know, Isabella," I interrupted. "Let's just move on, shall we? We have a lot to cover. I need to get you started on several projects. We will probably have to work late tonight. I hope that's not a problem for you."

"No, sir, no problem," she replied with that quirky smile.

"And you just started here today, so I feel it is incumbent upon me to steer you in the right direction." I took a deep breath, and met her eyes. I wanted her to know how absolutely serious I was. "Mike Newton is trouble. You'll need to choose, Ms. Black - you can be friends with Newton, or you can work for me. You cannot do both."

Her eyes softened, just a bit, and I felt like I was getting lost in her dark brown eyes.

"I'm not here for Mike Newton, Mr. Cullen," she said in a breathy tone. "I'm here for you."

* * *

Isabella Black was the single most frustrating woman I had ever met.

She had worked for me for almost six months, teased me mercilessly, but refused to let me fuck her. I had even stopped fucking other women to show her – and myself - that I was committed to her.

I had almost immediately told her to call me Edward, which was unheard of for me. Aro was the only person that I let use my Christian name. But hearing my name roll off of her lips was arousing to the point of painful. I hadn't jacked off in years, preferring a warm female body instead, but I was getting myself off twice a day most days to thoughts of Isabella. It was humiliating.

We had just returned to my office, celebrating after successfully completing the Berlin merger. Isabella was instrumental to my success, not just on that project, but on everything I did, and I wanted her to know that I appreciated her.

And I wanted to fuck her.

So I opened a very expensive bottle of champagne that I had been saving, and I poured us each a glass.

"To you," I said tapping the crystal flute lightly against hers.

"To me," she said with a laugh.

* * *

An hour later, half the bottle was gone, and I was still no closer to my goal. I had moved us to the small couch in my office seating group, and I was sitting close enough to her that our thighs were touching. I found myself repeatedly leaning closer and inhaling. She smelled so fucking good.

The champagne had gone to my head, made me bold, and I leaned even closer, fully intent on connecting my lips with her neck, but she quickly startled and pulled away.

"Edward, I -"

"Isabella, please," I begged. "I have never wanted someone so much in my entire life."

I took a lock of her hair between my fingers, inhaling deeply, and pressed the softness against my lips. It was the only part of her she had let me kiss so far.

No woman had ever told me no. No woman had ever resisted me. It was always easy, always a yes, and always immediate.

Except for Isabella.

"Edward, I know, believe me," she whispered. "I feel the same way."

_What_?

How the fuck could she say that when she wouldn't even let me touch her?

"That makes no sense," I said. "If you feel the same as I do, which I find incredibly hard to believe, we would both be naked right now, and you would be well on your way to screaming my name."

Her eyes widened just a bit, just enough for me to notice, and a soft pink blush spread instantly across her cheeks.

"I … I've been holding off because I didn't want to be like all those other women," she blurted out suddenly. "I wanted to be different. I wanted to be… special. Edward -"

Whatever she was going to say was interrupted by a loud knock at the door. My head whipped up, and I glared at the closed door, immediately pissed off at whoever was on the other side.

Isabella stood up and walked to the door and opened it before I could object.

"Well, well, well... Isabella! This is a lovely surprise!"

It was Mike Newton. Mike fucking Newton. And he was touching her - his hand on her arm, smiling broadly and walking into the room.

"I came up here to see Cullen, but I would much prefer to talk to you, pretty lady."

"Newton!" I barked, standing quickly and walking between them. If he wanted to try to touch her again, he would have to go through me. "What the fuck do you want?"

"Ah, Cullen, always the charmer," he said with a smile and knowing wink towards Isabella. He was fucking _performing _for her. "I was just coming to check on that report from the Chicago office. If you've received it yet. You know I'm here waiting on it."

"Newton, I really don't give a fuck why you're here, this late at night, interrupting me in my office - "

"Interrupting you and your lovely assistant -" he said.

I took a deep breath and clenched my fists at his innuendo. Everyone in the company knew about my activities with the women who worked for me, but I would not have him gossiping up and down the hallways about Isabella and me. Especially because it wasn't true.

I turned and looked at Isabella, wordlessly telling her to back off and let me handle Newton, and she immediately complied. She walked across the room and seated herself at my conference table.

I grabbed Newton's arm and led him back to the door.

"When the report comes in, you will be notified, just like everyone else." And then I leaned in and spoke in his ear so that only he could hear me. "And if you ever put your hands on her again, I will fucking kill you."

Newton stared at me, like he wasn't sure if I had just said what he thought I had said, but the angry look on my face should have erased any doubts.

He swallowed hard and nodded once, and then he was gone.

I closed the door and met Isabella at the conference table. The mood was gone now, and I was too angry to be around her anymore tonight.

"_That_ is what I was talking about, Isabella, on your first day here. That guy is fucking trouble. Do _not _fraternize with him, in any way. Keep your distance." I ran my fingers through my hair, an old nervous habit from my childhood. "And if I ever see him touch you again, so help me God, I will kill him."

I waited for her to say something or leave. We could start again in the morning.

But she surprised me.

"You'd kill him for me, Edward?" she asked, her voice low and throaty. She was intensely looking at me, waiting for my answer. For me to tell her whether or not I was serious. Her eyes were wide and dark, her lips dark and parted. Her cheeks were pink with that telltale blush I knew so well. She was aroused.

So I stepped closer to her, leaning down until my face was only inches from hers.

"Yes, Isabella," I said. I took a chance and lifted my fingers to her cheek, brushing gently against her soft, warm skin. "I would do anything for you. Anything at all. Including killing that asshole Newton."

She ducked her head down shyly, then looked back up at me through her long, dark lashes. Jesus, it killed me when she did that. Then, she kissed me softly on my cheek.

"Good to know," she said with a chuckle and headed out the door. "Goodnight, Edward."

* * *

The next morning, things seemed different between us. She was more forward with me, touching me, smiling more.

"Edward," she said from her seat at my conference table. "Have you heard any more from Aro on his plans for you? You know you are by _far _the best candidate in the company. I know it, you know it, everyone knows it, including Aro. He'd be a fool not to name you."

The board was meeting that evening to name the new Senior Vice President, replacing Sam Uley who had retired a month ago. Isabella and I had several conversations about my future with the company and her future at my side. She was smart, business-savvy, and she believed in me more than anyone else I had ever met.

"Nothing new," I grinned at her. But I knew I had it. It was a foregone conclusion. All that was left was the announcement.

She stood up and stood at my side, her hand resting gently on my shoulder. These new little touches were killing me. I hoped to God it was some sort of sign that she was nearly ready for me.

"You deserve it Edward. They owe it to you."

She had moved so that she was standing behind me now, both hands on my shoulders, and she leaned down, her lips brushing against my ear.

"Don't let anyone take this from you, Edward. It's _yours_. And you need to take what's yours."

My head was spinning. What was she trying to tell me? That the job was mine? Or was she talking about herself?

But then she walked out of the room, letting me know with a toss of her hair that she was running down to Documents and Records to get the printed reports that we were handing out at the board meeting.

* * *

The board met for only fifteen minutes, and Aro was the first to walk out. He walked right up to me and shook my hand. The entire executive team was waiting in the outer boardroom for the news, except for Newton, who was conspicuously absent.

"Congratulations, Edward! The board has voted you in unanimously. You are our new Senior Vice President. Let's celebrate! Jane," he said to his tall, blonde assistant, "champagne for everyone!"

It was a whirlwind after that, with each member of the team offering their congratulations and jockeying for position with me. The Senior Vice President held considerable influence in the company, quite a bit more than each divisional VP, and they all knew that I was a hard man to please.

But all I could think about was Isabella, who was waiting for me downstairs in my office, as we had agreed. I couldn't wait to share my news with her, and I was hoping that we could have our own private celebration.

After several glasses of champagne, I finally made my exit, after thanking Aro profusely for his confidence, and swearing my allegiance to him and the future success of the company.

Senior Vice President, Edward Cullen.

I was second only to Aro.

For now.

* * *

It was dark outside, and almost everyone had left for the day, including Angela.

My office door was closed, and when I reached for the handle, I heard noises coming from inside. Isabella's voice. And a man.

I pushed the door open until it slammed against the wall. And then I saw them. Isabella and Newton. On my couch. He had his hands all over her, and her blouse was ripped.

"Edward!" she screamed. "Thank God you're here! Mike was -"

I practically ran over to the couch and pulled him off of her, throwing him halfway across the room. I glared at him.

"Oh, I _know _what Mike was doing." Then, I turned to her, to make sure she was alright. "Isabella, are you okay? Did he hurt you?"

"No," she replied, her voice and hands shaking. "I'm fine. We were just talking, waiting for you to get back from your meeting. And then he … "

"He _what_, exactly?" I erupted, storming across the room to where Newton stood. "What the fuck did Newton _exactly _do?" He held his hands up and smiled, and he started to make a joke about what Isabella had said, but my hands around his throat silenced him.

"Is _this _what you want, Isabella? Mike fucking Newton? Is this what turns you on, this skinny little shit? Is it? Because if you two want each other, I'll gladly step out of the picture. Just promise to stay the _fuck _away from me."

I squeezed my fingers tighter around Newton's throat, and he tried to fight me off, but he was no match for me. I had warned him, and I was going to kill the fucker.

Isabella got up from the couch and walked over to me, right behind me, her hands on my arms. I flinched a little with the contact, I was so wound up.

"Edward, please, you know that's not true. You know that you are the only one for me. You know how I feel about you." She was speaking very slowly, very softly, obviously trying to calm me down.

"No, Isabella, I don't," I growled at her. "You know _exactly _how I feel about you, but you've kept yourself tightly locked away from me for all these months. Now it's time to put up or shut up."

"Edward, I was only talking to Mike because I thought we might be able to use him someday. I was gathering intel, laying groundwork for your future, for _our _future. You know I would never do anything against you."

Newton's face was turning purple and his eyes were bulging out of his head. He was slapping at my arms. trying desperately to get me to let go, but there was no way he was walking away from this.

"I saw you and him, on my couch," I grunted. "He had his hands on you. He was fucking _touching _you!" I roared, but she didn't move, calmly standing behind me, rubbing my arms.

"I am only here for you Edward. My purpose in life is to help you succeed, to help you achieve your goals. It's all I want. We're a team, you and I. I want to be at your side, all the way to the top. You got the promotion, I know you did. And there's only one step left, Edward. CEO. All that's left is Aro."

At the mention of Aro's name, something clicked, and I shifted my focus slightly so that I could look at her face. I realized suddenly that she was discussing our plans, our private future plans, right in front of Newton.

"And him?" I said, gesturing to the man that I was choking. "What would you like for me to do with him?"

This was it. There was no going back. She could only give me one of two answers… one in which we shared a future, one in which we didn't.

Then, I felt her lips at my ear again.

"Kill him, Edward," she moaned seductively, her tongue snaking out and tasting me. "Kill him, and then fuck me."

Right answer.

I applied more pressure to Newton's throat with my hands, and I watched as his eyes rolled white. His body shook for a few seconds, and then he was still.

I held him there for several seconds, against the wall, this man that I had killed, but I felt no remorse. No guilt. I thought about what I had done, and then I remembered Isabella and what she had just said to me.

I released Newton, his bodily collapsing lifelessly to the ground, and I spun around to face Isabella. I grabbed her upper arms and pushed her back until she was pressed against my conference table, and I kissed her. _Hard_. My tongue inside her mouth, my hands in her hair, pulling her tightly against me.

At first, she didn't move. Didn't react at all. I thought, just briefly that I might have misjudged her.

"Is this what you want, Isabella?" I growled. I had to know. "You want my hands on you? My dick inside you? Or do you want boys like Newton, him and his pathetic little lackeys. Hmm? _Tell me_."

I pushed her legs open and stepped up against her, my hips pressing into her hips. I reached for the hem of her skirt and pulled it up, shoving my hand between her legs. I instantly felt how wet she was, and I _knew_. All that remained between us was a thin piece of lace, and I pressed my fingers against her pussy, and she moaned. Isabella fucking _moaned _for me.

"No, no, please," she begged, tossing her head back and offering me her long white neck. "Edward, please… I want you. I only want you. There was only ever you."

I kissed and licked and bit at her neck, and she made the most delicious noises for me, noises I had only fantasized about. But then I stopped. I needed to ask her one last question, and I wasn't going to give her what she wanted until she gave me what I wanted first.

"And there will only ever _be _me, correct, my Isabella?"

"Yes!" she screamed. "Yes, only you, no one else… please, touch me, Edward, please... I want you so fucking badly."

So I touched her again, slipping my fingers inside her panties and rubbing, but just enough to drive her crazy, not enough to get her anywhere.

"Tell me what you want, beautiful Isabella," I whispered. "Tell me, and I'll give it to you."

She put her hand over mine between her legs, pressing hard, and met my eyes. The wanton, desperate look on her face, the wild look in her eyes... it was all too much for me.

"I want you to fuck me Edward," she moaned. "Fuck me hard, and fuck me rough. Show me that I belong to you. Take what's yours."

"Yes!" I roared. "Yes, fuck yes, you are _mine_." I ripped those tiny panties off of her body and pushed her back on the table, spreading her legs wide. I wanted to do so much to her, with her, so much touching and tasting, but right now, I just needed to be inside her, to claim her once and for all, as mine.

I unbuckled my pants and grabbed my dick, and without any further hesitation, I slammed it into her.

Jesus, it was like nothing I had ever felt before. Physically, emotionally - unnamed feelings surging through my body. I wanted to fuck her for hours, but I knew I wouldn't last long. Minutes at the most.

"Edward," she gasped. "I'm almost… I'm almost there. Make me come, baby… please."

She wanted me to make her come, something I had never done before in my life. I was always completely selfish, my needs over the woman's, but this was different. I _wanted _it. I _wanted _her to come. I wanted to be the one responsible for making her feel good, to watch her come apart beneath me. To _feel _it.

So, I continued to fuck her, but I slipped my hand back between her legs, rubbing her clit in slow, steady circles.

I felt her start to come before I heard her, her pussy clenching tightly on my dick, tighter than anything I had ever felt before. Then, she started to moan… long, throaty, and non-stop.

"Edward, baby," she gasped. "I'm coming… I'm coming… oh fuck… "

The combination was too much for me, hearing her, _feeling_ her, and I exploded inside her, pressing my hips against hers as I emptied into her body.

I collapsed on top of her, both of us sweating and panting, trying to catch our breath, and I didn't know if she sensed that I was about to move or not, but she wrapped her legs around my waist and held me tightly to her body, keeping me deep inside of her.

"Don't worry, my love," I whispered. "I'm not going anywhere."

I brushed the hair from her face, tiny strands stuck to her forehead with sweat, and I just listened to her breathe, the steady beat of her heart. I stroked my fingertips along her cheek, gently, sweetly, and then I kissed her. Not like the first time, however. This was soft and sweet and slow.

"Now, you're mine," I told her, and she smiled back at me.

"Yours."

* * *

We had sex several times that night, then we decided that we had to deal with Newton's body. We worked through several different scenarios before finally dragging him back to his office. I thought about posing him in his chair, leaving some ridiculous clue behind to taunt the police, but Isabella suggested that we just throw him in a corner, making it look like he was killed in his office.

She had a devious little mind on her, and as much as I wanted to take her home and fuck her again, I knew we had to do this right. We cleaned beneath his fingernails with rubbing alcohol, just in case he had managed to scrape against my skin, but even that could be easily explained. I wore no rings, so there were no specific marks on his neck, just bruises from my fingers, which could have been caused by anyone.

We left his lights on and returned to my office to clean up. When we finally left, Isabella just came with me to my car. After everything we had been through that night, it was just assumed that she would be with me from now on.

* * *

The news of Newton's death the next day spread like wildfire. He and I had never gotten along, that was no secret, so I didn't even have to pretend that I was upset.

Isabella was running errands for me when the Detective showed up, for the first time, to ask me some questions.

"Mr. Cullen?" Angela said meekly from the doorway. "Detective Swan is here to see you. About Mr. Newton." She whispered that last part, like she was afraid to say it out loud.

I sighed heavily, like I was annoyed, but I fully expected it.

I stood up as he walked in and gestured for him to join me at my conference table.

"Detective," I said in the most serious tone I could muster. "Terrible thing, isn't it? How can I help?"

"Mr. Cullen, thank you for seeing me without an appointment. We're getting statements from everyone who was here last night after closing. Just in case you saw anything suspicious, anything out of the ordinary."

I pretended to think for a minute or two.

"No, nothing that I can think of. Nothing comes to mind. I was here late, celebrating," I said with a small smile, trying to look somewhat gracious. "The board had just named me Senior Vice President."

"I heard," he said. "Congratulations. That's quite an accomplishment. So, you didn't see any strangers in the building, anyone coming or going from Newton's office, anything like that?"

"No, Detective, no strangers. And unfortunately, I can't tell you anything about Newton's office. I tried to stay away from there as much as possible." I cleared my throat. "It was no secret that Mr. Newton and I didn't get along."

He flipped through his notepad and wrote something down.

"Yes, I've heard that several times. That's why I wanted to be sure to get a statement from you today. So we can eliminate you right off. And were you here alone last night? Was anyone with you that can vouch for your whereabouts?"

"I was with my assistant. We were celebrating my promotion and discussing plans for the following day."

"And her name?" he asked, pen poised at his notebook.

"Black. Isabella Black."

His head snapped up, and he stared at me for a minute.

"Did you say Isabella Black? Did I get that right?"

I thought his reaction was a little strange, and it made me curious.

"Yes, that's right."

"Is she here? Mrs. Black?" he asked. "We'll need to get a statement from her as well."

"No, she's out of the office at the moment, on business. I can have her call you when she returns."

He pulled out one of his business cards and pushed it across the table to me.

"Please, give her my card, and ask her to call me as soon as possible. I really need to get this wrapped up. You understand." He grinned at me, like we were both in on the same secret. "And I've taken up enough of your time today, Mr. Cullen. Thank you again for seeing me, and if I have any follow-up questions?"

"See Angela, my secretary, on the way out. She'll give you my contact information and can set up an appointment if necessary."

We both stood at that point, and he once again offered me his hand. I shook it and suddenly had a bad feeling. Something about him, but I didn't know what.

* * *

Isabella returned about an hour later, and I had forgotten completely about the Detective's visit until she brought it up.

"So, any news? On Newton's murder? What's the word in the hallways?"

"Nothing yet, the idiots," I laughed. "Oh, but a Detective came by to question me.

Standard procedure, nothing to worry about. He'll need to speak with you as well," I said, handing her the business card.

"Detective Swan?" she asked suddenly. "Charlie Swan?"

"Yes, that's him. Do you know him?" I asked curiously. She seemed affected, but I didn't know why.

"No," she said suddenly. "No, just sounded familiar, that's all. I'll give him a call."

She tucked the card into her pocket and returned to discussing the action items due for the meeting next week.

* * *

The gossip around Newton's murder died down after about a week, and everyone returned to normal. Isabella and I never discussed it. Just talked about moving forward, getting me to the number one spot, which was the eventual goal.

Swan showed up again, no appointment. Just kind of barged in one day during lunch. Both Angela and Isabella were out of the building, so he just knocked on the door and let himself in.

"Detective," I said. "Back so soon?"

"Yes, Mr. Cullen, so sorry to bother you. Just a few follow-up questions, if you don't mind."

"Of course, Detective. However, I'm afraid I have a meeting in about fifteen minutes, so we'll have to be done by then."

"Oh no," he said. "Shouldn't take that long at all."

He pulled his notebook out of his cheap suit jacket and startled rifling through the pages. I wasn't sure if this was some ploy on his part, or if he was actually that inept.

"You said you returned to your office around 6 p.m. the night that Newton was murdered."

"Yes, that's correct. Approximately. I don't remember checking the clock."

"And you didn't see Newton at all, didn't leave your office until around 10 p.m. that night when you left the building."

"That's correct," I said. "Again, time approximate."

"Well, maybe you can help me with this. We spoke to Bree, Mr. Newton's secretary, and she said that Mr. Newton left his office around 5:30 that night, and told Bree that he was going to your office for a meeting."

"I'm sorry," I said. "I can't help you. I had no meetings with Newton, and he wasn't in my office when I returned from the board meeting."

"So you got back to your office around 6 p.m."

This man was starting to seriously frustrate me.

"Yes, as I just said."

"And who was in your office when you entered?"

"Just my assistant."

He rifled through his notebook, and I got that feeling again that he was pretending.

"And that's Mrs. Black. Mrs. Isabella Black?"

That's the second time he's referred to her as _Mrs_. It was really starting to piss me off.

"That's _Ms_. Black."

"Oh," he said, looking suddenly like a really bad actor. "She's not married?"

"No," I said slowly, through clenched teeth. "She's divorced."

"I see," he muttered. "And is she here? I still need to talk to her, to get a statement from her."

"No, Detective she's out of the building. And if we are done, I really must … "

"Your meeting, of course, of course. Just one more thing."

"Yes?"

"So Mrs. Black, excuse me, _Ms_. Black, was alone in your office when you returned from upstairs, and the two of you were alone for the rest of the evening until you both left around 10."

"Yes, Detective," I sighed, standing and buttoning my jacket. "As I've said. Now I really must go."

"Sure. I understand." he stood as well, and we shook hands. I walked him to the door, without pause, and hit the up button on the elevator.

"Thanks again, Mr. Cullen," he said. "For seeing me on such short notice."

* * *

That night, Isabella and I worked late again, and we were both surprised when my phone rang. It was Aro. He was in his office down the hall and asked that I come talk to him. I told him that Isabella and I were working on the project schedule for the meeting in the morning, and he chuckled and told me to bring her. "The more the merrier" were his exact words.

"Edward!" he exclaimed when we entered his office. "I knew I'd find you here. Burning the midnight oil, as usual? And the lovely Isabella! This is indeed a surprise and an unexpected pleasure!"

He was alone, his security team gone for the night. He walked to Isabella and grabbed her hand, raising it to his lips.

It immediately brought the hackles up on the back of my neck, and I was on alert.

"Aro, what can I help you with?" I said. "Isabella and I were just finishing up, hoping to get out of here in the next few minutes."

"Yes, yes," he said. "Leaving together, as usual? You two are quite the gossip in the hallways these days. I always keep my ear to the ground, Edward. Never know what you'll find."

Then, he winked. I wasn't sure if it was for Isabella or for me, but either way, he was up to no good.

"Aro, you know I don't discuss my personal life, so if there is something I can help you with?"

"Yes, your personal life." He laughed, maniacally. Isabella and I exchanged a quick, worried glance.

"All those women, Edward. Fucking so many of them right here in the office."

"Aro, that's completely out of line -"

"And never once did you offer to share with me."

He was still holding Isabella's hand, and he turned to look at her, kissed her hand again. I saw her visibly shiver.

"But maybe this time, you will. You see, dear Edward, I'm afraid that some information has crossed my desk that is of great importance to both of us." Then he looked at Isabella again and laughed gleefully. "To all three of us!"

He threw a folder on his desk, and a number of black and white photos spilled out. They were all taken in my office. Several of me strangling Newton, then several of him, dead, on the ground, Isabella and I both looking at the body. Then, Isabella and me fucking on the table. _Lots _of pictures of us fucking.

He pulled one out of the stack, a particularly graphic picture of Isabella's naked body, her legs splayed open, and my dick inside her.

"This one is my favorite," he said thoughtfully. Then, he pulled a different picture out of the stack - Isabella on her knees, sucking my dick, her ass to the camera. "No, on second thought, _this _is my favorite. You have such a beautiful mouth, Isabella. It shows up so well on camera, don't you think?"

Isabella didn't move, didn't react, didn't flinch at all. I was quite amazed by her. I was still trying to figure out how these pictures were taken and where he had gotten them. Strangely, I was more upset by the sex pictures than I was of the ones of me strangling Newton.

"And that's all well and good, of course. What two consenting adults do is their own business," he said, running his eyes up and down Isabella's body. "But _this_," he said pointing to the picture of me and Newton. "Well, this, I'm afraid, is a game-changer."

I quickly shoved all the pictures back into the folder. I couldn't look at them anymore.

"What do you want, Aro?" I asked. Aro was a ruthless man, I knew. His behind-the-scenes deals were questionable, legally and morally, and I had enough information to send him to prison for life, but apparently, now, so did he.

"It's very simple, my dear Edward," he said with a smile. "I keep your little secret from the police, and you give me the beautiful Isabella."

What? _What_?

"Aro, you are out of your fucking mind."

"No, I don't think so, Edward. Obviously, Isabella knows how to fuck her way to the top, and it's only right, that since I _am _the top, that she fuck me instead."

He said it so casually that it took a moment for me to process.

"Edward - " Isabella said my name, low and soft, her hand on my arm. I looked at her for a second, then back at Aro.

"_No_, Isabella. Whatever you were going to say, _no_." I didn't want to hear her thoughts, some deal she would be willing to work out to save my neck. This was going to stop, and it was going to stop tonight.

"Where did you get these, Aro? Who took these pictures?" I had to find out what the hell was going on. They were all taken from the same angle, which led me to believe there was a camera in my office, but I had to know what he knew.

"Edward, you don't really think I ever trusted you, did you? Or _anyone _in this company?" He laughed. "I have cameras hidden in every room, and the surveillance video is stored in our server room. Under my password, of course."

He saw me processing his words, and as I realized what he had said, he started speaking again.

"That's right, my boy. _Video_. I have live action video of everything you see in those pictures. I can't tell you how many times I watched Isabella sucking on your cock that first night. And then every day since! I didn't even show you _those _pictures, but I have it all. You two fuck like bunnies. It's a beautiful thing." He sighed. "That's why I really must insist that I have Isabella all to myself. My Jane has become quite boring, and to tell you honestly, I can't even get it up for her lately! But my oh my, I have been hard as a rock since I saw Isabella's ripe little body on my monitor. I cannot _wait _to have her alone. Now, if you will just head on back to your office, leaving her here with me of course, we can dispense with this ugliness, and move on."

He turned then and started walking to the door, to escort us out, and I snapped. I didn't know if I realized at the time that I had all the information I needed, but there was no way in hell that I was going to let him get away with this.

I grabbed the first thing I could find on his desk, a letter opener, and I ran up behind him, stabbing him in the back. He didn't make a sound, just a soft, wet gasp, arching his back away from me. I pulled the letter opener out and stabbed him again, over and over and over, until he collapsed on the ground in a bloody heap.

I stood over him, gasping, my hands and shirt covered in blood, and this time, when Isabella touched my arm, I immediately calmed. She was the reason for my being. She was all that was important. I had to keep her safe.

"Edward," she said calmly. "We have to get out of here. Let's go back to your office, you can take a quick shower and change your clothes, and then we can go home. Okay?"

She was talking slowly, like an adult talking calmly to a child. I realized she was right, and I nodded my head.

We cleaned up what we could, took the pictures and the letter opener. We would have to get all the video from the server later, which wouldn't be a problem for me. Right now, it was critical that we get the fuck out of there.

* * *

Only a week had passed since Newton's murder, but the next morning, when Aro's bloody body was discovered, there was sudden talk of a serial killer stalking employees at the company.

This time, unfortunately, I had to act like I was upset, that losing Aro was personal to me. People in the company assumed that I thought of Aro as a father figure, which couldn't have been further from the truth.

As senior officer in the company, I was notified immediately when his body was found. Our business manager took care of all of the details, calling the police, notifying the board. A sudden death was unfortunate, but we had a business to run, and the board was called into an emergency meeting that afternoon. This time, they invited me into the room with them.

I was voted in as President, again unanimously. I gave a very short speech about what a sad occasion it was, but that I would do what I could to keep Aro's company running as he would have wanted.

When I returned to my office, Detective Swan was waiting for me.

"I hear congratulations are again in order, Mr. Cullen," he said, fingering his moustache.

"Detective, this is really not a good time -"

"I'm afraid I have to insist Mr. Cullen. This is getting to be quite a thing, you and I meeting in your office to discuss murders in your company. And isn't it interesting that you keep rising up on that corporate ladder."

I sat in my chair and immediately relaxed. The game was over. He knew I was guilty, and now it was just a matter of proving it.

"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about, Detective," I said smugly. "Or what you _think _you know. I had nothing to do with either of these crimes, and you cannot prove that I did."

"I will, Mr. Cullen. It's only a matter of time."

He turned to leave, and just then, Isabella walked back in. She and Detective Swan stood facing each other, only feet away, neither of them speaking.

"Well, well, well," he said. "If it isn't _Ms_. Isabella Black. I've been looking for you, little girl."

Isabella looked panicked, scared to death. I had never before seen that expression on her face. Nothing had ever fazed her, and it worried me.

"Excuse me, Detective, but I will not allow you to talk to one of my employees like that. I'm afraid I must ask you to leave."

He stared at Isabella for several seconds before turning back to me.

"For now. I'll see you both soon. _Very _soon."

It was very quiet after he left, neither of us speaking. I was waiting for her to explain what just happened. What I didn't know.

"Edward, there's something I haven't told you," she started. "Let's sit."

We moved to the couch, but she sat as far away from me as possible.

"When I was eighteen, I married a local boy in my hometown, Jacob Black. He and I were just friends, I didn't love him or anything," she said, her voice starting to shake. "I did it simply to get out of my house. My father was… abusive. Physically, emotionally… sexually. It started slowly, when I was in grade school. He raped me for the first time when I was just thirteen, after my Mom died. And he didn't stop until I left."

I reached out to take her hand, but she pulled away from me.

"Edward, please, let me finish. Jacob and I were… happy. Not blissfully, completely happy," and then she smiled at me. "Not like I am with you, but happier than I had ever been before. But my dad showed up at our house one day, drunk, screaming at both of us. He was saying the craziest things about Jacob, that _Jacob _was the abusive one, that _Jacob _had raped me, and that _he _was the only one who cared about me. Jacob knew the truth. I had told him several years before, and that's basically why he married me. Jacob was a big guy, very muscular, and very tall, and if it had just been the two of them, man against man, my father wouldn't have stood a chance."

I reached for her hand again, and this time, she let me take it. I had to make sure that she knew that I would always be there for her, that I would always protect her, that she never had to feel that fear again.

"But, my dad was a cop. _Is _a cop. He was the Chief of Police in my hometown, which is why I could never get anyone to stop him. They all knew he was a drinker, but no one would have believed me over him."

It was a terrible story, but I couldn't fathom what any of it had to do with Aro's murder.

"I'm not divorced, Edward, I'm a widow. My dad shot Jacob. Killed him. And then he came after me, but he was so drunk that I was able to hit him in the head, a lamp or something, and then run away. And I've never been back."

"Isabella," I said gently. "I'm so sorry for everything that happened to you, but why -"

"I kept my married name, because I didn't want my father to find me. I didn't want to ever use my maiden name again. Edward," she said, squeezing my hand. "My maiden name is Swan. Detective Swan is my father."

"_What_?" I said, a little too sharply. "Detective Swan? Your _father_? Isabella, why didn't you tell me? Why did you keep this from me?"

She sniffed, wiping her nose with the back of her hand.

"I was scared! All of that abuse came flooding back when you gave me his card. I tried to avoid the office as much as I could, but I knew he would eventually catch up to me."

"Baby," I said, calming myself down for her sake. "I'm glad you told me. We can work on this together. As long as we work together, we can figure out a solution to anything. Even this. You know I will protect you. I will do anything for you, anything in the world."

"That's what I was hoping you'd say, Edward." She sniffed one last time, then the scared little girl was gone, and my Isabella was back. She got a very determined look on her face. "Because I want you to kill him for me."

* * *

_I gave him a moment to meet my eyes, to see what his last moments looked like in the rich, green irises of his nemesis, and I pulled the trigger._

Detective Charlie Swan, Isabella's abusive, alcoholic father, collapsed to the ground, instantly dead, his body laying next to his two fallen comrades.

I turned to Isabella, watching me from the corner, and gave her a smile, which she immediately returned.

"Good enough?" I asked, reaching out for her hand. We had to leave, and we had to leave immediately. This time, there was no doubt who had pulled the trigger.

"Good enough," she said.


	5. Lust

_**Lust**_: _noun \ˈləst\ (Latin - Luxuria)_

1 **:** a strong feeling of sexual desire

2 **: **a strong desire _for_ something

* * *

The air swirls as the train car speeds by to my left, the passengers inside blurred and watery as they fly through the station. The machine nor the platform across the tracks holds any interest to me, so I concentrate only on what I'm here for.

The middle-aged man in the navy suit who is about to have a heart attack.

I wait, biding my time until it is the correct moment to make my presence known. I see the clutch of his hand to his chest, the red face that beckons my call, and I move calmly to him.

As he collapses onto the gray cement, I hover over him, waiting for that perfect second. His eyes lay upon me, frightened and unsure, and I do my best to comfort him. The passers-by go on with their daily lives, until the woman next to us notices he's fallen.

She shouts out for medical assistance as a small crowd forms, and I lean my face over his, watching the serenity that comes to the surface as he sees me smiling above him.

Gently and peacefully, I lower myself to whisper in his ear, those soothing words of completeness and fulfillment I give to all.

I pull back from the side of his face after I've said what I always do, what they all want to hear, and keep my eyes steady on his as I tilt in to him once again, the scent of soap on his skin invading my nose as I breathe him in.

With one subtle movement my lips meet his, and I feel the warmth of his life, letting it slide through my body like a secret whisper. The glory and understanding washes over him as I slowly pull away, but never leave his side, even though there are others now trying to assist. To anyone watching, the space next to him is empty where I am, as they unconsciously avoid the spot that looks vacant.

People bustle, calling for help on cell phones or ogling with their hands over their mouths, but I know it's over, that he's breathed his last breath and will now be falling deeply into the most tranquil, forgiving slumber.

I step back and watch from afar as he sinks into his final rest. It's not a melancholy meeting for me, I'm pleased that he's accepted it as well as he has, and I smile slightly, knowing with all of my being that he left this life absolved and calmed.

I take in the scene a moment and glance at those surrounding the man. No one notices me, no one wants to see me, and no one wants to imagine I'm walking among them. But I do, day after day.

For I am death.

* * *

I love the spring, the splendor of new buds on trees and stalks of flowers starting to break free of the ground, working hard to stand tall and reach the sunlight that gets warmer every day while feeding off the rays that will make them strong and hearty.

This particular afternoon, I walk through the fresh grass where people lounge as they read, talk, or just let the pleasantness of the day wash over them, grateful smiles on their faces that winter has pulled its cold fingers away for another year.

Climbing over a small hill, I reach the crest and turn my eyes towards a group of children gathering. Their laughter reaches me over the slight breeze as they toss coats and sweaters on top of the benches that sit nearby. The sound makes me smile, and I pause, enjoying for a moment the unmistakable happiness that comes with such childhood noises. I let myself get swept away for a bit, luxuriating in the life that surrounds me.

I breathe deeply as I return my concentration and let my eyes roam, searching, until my already still body becomes even more fixed as my examining gaze falls on…the one.

My breath stutters, caught in my chest as I watch her move so languidly, so fluidly, her body stretching and reaching like a swan. She laughs, she cuddles, she enjoys. Every one of those little children mimics her movement with delight as she leads a silly game on the bright green of new grass. Just like them, my eyes don't leave her, don't waiver from the extraordinary force that is emanating from their guide. Wild colors surround her, fluttering and swaying in the breeze, ribbons waving on the poles she holds, in a dance so choreographed it almost looks like she's an angel herself.

But she's not. She's next.

A deep burning begins to grow within me, of feelings long forgotten, feelings I have no use for any longer. There's an odd stirring of physical need pounding through me so dramatically that I double over from the strength in which it encompasses my body. It slams against the walls of my skin, trying to find a way out and I instinctively wrap an arm around my abdomen. I feel it flow through me, rapid and foreign, like the descending zigzag of a lightening bolt. I lift my head and pry my eyes open, forcing myself to focus on the task before me. A thought I've never had before rushes to mind, causing me sudden distress.

Not this one…anyone but her.

However, it's not my choice to make. I know she's my next soul. I don't call them victims. What I provide isn't punishment, it is release. She's the next creature I am to expel from the complicated compound they call 'life'.

I remain watching for timeless minutes, through the slits my eyes have become to help guard against her luminosity, and feel myself easing, smiling as the children gather around her, their jubilant cries permeating my thirsty ears. I focus on this, moments I take delight in, the moments of life that surround me, move through me, touch and dance upon me every day.

While I help deliver death, I am most certainly a lover of life.

I love everything about it; its beauty is a sight to behold when it's being used so thoroughly.

And this one, oh, she does.

She radiates an existence I've long forgotten, an exuberance I remember faintly. I feel the love she has for her own life, one made of power, of energy, as it soars all around me. She is drenched in passion, and it makes my body pulse.

The gentle sway of her body captivates me, calls to me, and for the first time in the hundreds of times I've narrowed in on the soul I'm to take, I hesitate. Just so I can bathe in her and continue experiencing this newfound energy within myself.

I remain fixated; observing her, as there is no obvious sign of sickness, of impending end, although I know it's there. Her soul is filled to the brim with the act of living, and I'm finding it hard to ignore, hard to fathom that it's her time. It's not that I haven't experienced souls so full it's a shame to take them, it has happened before, and those are the hardest. But her…this time, the drive to not take from her is unparalleled.

I move closer, hoping to gather myself before the time arrives that I must spend with her, time dictated not by me, but by the universe itself. I'm just a worker bee, doing my job.

The children say their goodbyes and move to join their waiting, smiling parents; I can see the bright life in each of these children, all with many years ahead of them before they must meet one of my kind. As they go, I wish for all of them to live those lives fully with a silent prayer.

She's alone now, gathering the things that make her children happy, the sweat on her neck glistening in the sunlight and proving that she is alive, that she has blood flowing through her veins and oxygen fueling her body.

I slink, I glide, always thoughtful in that moment I know has to come, one I know I can ease; it's a moment I do not take lightly. Each soul is a gift to me, and I respect even those that may not have lived a life to be proud of.

The perfume of her lifespan hits me first. It's not something I'm unfamiliar with, for I've sensed it many times before, a particular fragrance on others. It's an aroma of what their time on earth has been, it tells me much about them, a blueprint of the life they've led.

But hers...

It's like I've been jolted awake, resurrected and resuscitated. Her smell is fire, red and bursting, a pulsing crimson wave of scent that makes me swallow and blink my eyes. I'm filled with wonder, and I need more.

Once I compose myself enough back to the cautious state I usually exemplify, I move closer, tempting the timetable that warns me I'm early. As I pause behind her, she stands straight, as most do when they have that sixth sense of me. Hands usually falter before returning to a chore with a sudden rising of the hair on their arms, but instead of continuing on as others do after they feel me near, she turns.

She stares right at me with penetrating brown eyes, and meets my gaze, not in oblivion or fear, but in absolute knowledge.

I stop, oddly unsure, as she looks at me fully, not as a passing thought or as a shiver on skin, but as a human looks at another.

"Hello," she says, and I know instantly that she is conscious of everything I am, even though that clot of blood that's waiting to seize her brain is still moments away and she is unaware of it's impending journey.

I say nothing, as she ponders me, and I marvel at her fearlessness. The life standing before me isn't wavering, isn't weak, and I question as to whether I've got the right soul. Her eyes trace my body, taking in my humble uniform of simple black pants and white shirt that covers my skin.

Skin that vibrates fresh under her perusal.

"Hello," I reply in kind, my voice ancient with uncommon words. It's not that I can't speak other than that comforting final phrase, but it's a foreign sport to me. Being seen by those not in their final moments and having conversation is something different. She has remarkably given me something new.

"Is this it, then? I didn't expect you to be so handsome," she says, as her head tilts to the right.

I'm thrown. Souls eye me first with dread as I get close, which turns to faith and enlightenment once I'm about to kiss, taking the life they're ready to give. It's a look of adoration that shines on their faces as they slip softly on after my lips claim them. Those are the looks I'm used to.

I'm overcome with the loveliness that is her skin, the palpitating life that rushes in the vein of her neck and lies beneath the transparent covering of her insides. No one has ever looked at me as she does, as a man. For I am a man, just one not many want to fathom.

But her…she sees me, she covets me, and I am lost.

The hunger in her brilliant eyes as they dance with mine is overwhelming, and I'm momentarily stunned silent by the uniqueness of her gaze. Not in apprehension, not in relief, but in unmistakable _want_. Heat comes off her in waves as her eyes darken and her breath hitches, causing me to pause at this revelation.

"Yes," I finally answer, but make no move to rectify the situation I've found myself in. I make no stride to walk away and wait for the job I am to perform, even though I should.

"Well, what's it supposed to be?"

Her eyes search mine as her voice asks, taking on a husky quality. I'm struck again by her casual attitude towards me, a contrast to the life that still beats within her, the life that needs to be lived. For the first time, I'm wary of what I do.

I feel remorse.

The bubbling of the event that wants to claim her starts to emanate towards me, the mass of blood she is oblivious to that has been travelling towards her brain for days. I feel its electric vibrancy throbbing and stretching towards its target, the central nerve that will cause her passage into whatever her afterlife is beyond this.

Suddenly, her eyes squeeze tightly and she gasps, bringing a hand to her head. I take a step nearer, and she gazes at me through slit eyelids.

This is my sanction; this is what I must do. I help those that are destined to pass. I am a savior, even if many don't agree.

But in this moment, I fail. "I'll return," I say, and move quickly to cross back over the hill, away from her, away from my duty.

* * *

I observe her unfairly in the time following my failure in the park, the days of her life that she shouldn't have. It's unprecedented, this long observance of a soul, days stretching to weeks.

Staying far enough away to go undetected, for now I know she _can_ detect me, I watch her from the shadows as I go about my other assignments. There is no sign in her that she felt anything but a strong migraine that left her in bed for a few days, and I feel relief that I did not cause undo stress or long-term disability from my _in_ability to do my job. For that would pain me, greatly, to watch her suffer. I do not know what the consequences are though, of having her here, walking and breathing and living beyond what was mapped for her.

Time stretches, turning to hot summer days, and she still plays with the children in the park, new props of sparkly foils and water-filled batons get thrown high in the air and caught in her masterful hands. As she twirls, her hair streams behind her like a beautiful cape of the deepest mahogany. Her tanned legs flow out from beneath shorts, shoes are left to the side as she slides her bare feet across the earth, toes painted red to match the fire that still burns inside her.

She runs errands with a bounce in her step, a song on her lips, and a kind word for every shopkeep. She never misses the opportunity to crouch down to play with an animal, making conversation so easily with the owners of these pets. She spreads warmth towards the many people she encounters in her day which always leaves them smiling after she goes.

I find myself getting more and more transfixed as I follow in her wake, watching her love fully and live greatly. She's kind. She's generous. She's unselfish and without pride.

She's exquisite.

While I feel deeply for those I release lovingly, taking in the joy, pain, and hope that they are all filled with, no one has come close to how I feel for her. The way she moves, the way she lives, the way she just _is_. I'm selfish in my aspiration to let her retain her verve, just so I can enjoy her. But I cannot help myself.

Her vigor makes me yearn for a life I once had, for the man I once was, but I know she is the reason I want these things at all.

Only if I can share them with her.

The time is fading all the while I'm soaking in her, and I understand that soon I will be called to make myself known again. The tiny sparks that are shimmying in her brain are muted, but they won't be for long. I see the signs in every wince on her face as she reacts to what she thinks is a light too bright, or when she suddenly can't read something right before her, despite her lack of needing glasses her whole life. She laughs these moments off, claiming to not be a teenager anymore, while I hazardously ignore a foreign entity within me.

Guilt.

* * *

It's with no surprise that I see her one afternoon, visiting some of the elderly in the nursing home where I've been dispensed. My essence is wired to her, aware of her every movement; I can always feel her when she nears.

I spy on her from my corner as she walks from bed to bed of those that lie near death, but will fall after her, as she fills them with another moment of vitality due to her presence. She paints the room in vivid orange, placing sun and heat where it's lacking, and turning these sad, withered faces into radiant beams of light. She is so caught up in entertaining others that I thankfully go unnoticed.

I cannot forget why I am here, as I watch her, so I commence in my mission, saying the words of comfort to an aged man, spotted with time, who holds my hand as he goes. I'm dedicated as he smiles brightly and whispers his long gone beloved's name as I press my lips to his with a faint touch. Right now, it's this wonderful man's moment; so I forget her for the time being and let her go on her way. Off to spread her fire among the inhabitants of this world.

Time is inconsequential to me for the most part, but I sense another week or two passing, more hours that rush away as I continue my vigil of her, waiting until her time is to come around again, to finally be final. I grow impatient in my need to be in her presence and contemplate approaching as an ordinary gent towards a woman he fancies. My abhorrent thoughts define and mutate, causing long dormant need to rise and flow through my bloodstream to make itself known; triggering me to feel biological musings of humanness I've not had a use for in a very long time. The strong pull to be with another, not just in company, but also in companionship and all that the word brings.

I know these thoughts aren't random; it's not just anyone I desire, but her alone. It is from my obsession with her that I've gone rogue.

I make the choice, finally, one rainy day when autumn rainwater shines on her magnificence, encapsulating and warping the aura that surrounds her into tiny, shiny, fragments of life, of light. Making a choice is an odd sensation, but my heart feels lifted at the prospect of what I'm about to do.

I admire the way she doesn't pretend I'm not there, that she doesn't know me as she gets her coffee the way she likes it, two sugars and a splash of milk, as she has every day that I've watched her since I failed. Her first glance of me is one of shock; until quickly her face turns to something I shouldn't wish for. Pleasure.

Her eyes dance with excitement as she approaches, and my throat tightens as her confidence scans my form, dressed as I always am. It's her probing eyes that make me wonder if she sees more. Her gaze is powerful, making me feel naked and exposed. "It's you," she says simply, as she steps to the table I've occupied while drinking up her energy, waiting for her to see me. I am relieved as she pulls the chair out across from me, the one I've been willing for her to take since she entered the shop.

"It is," I reply, watching every movement of her hand as she stirs her drink, the crutch she feels she needs to get through her morning. I curtail the overwhelming need to take that hand in mine and caress it. "Don't I scare you?" I ask instead, folding my hands together to keep myself from what I know I shouldn't do.

"No, should you?" Her smile over the cup as she blows the rising steam thrills me in a way I haven't known for ages, not since I was once like her. This smile is mine alone, made for me, and I revel in it. I feel what others must experience when she unleashes that visage on the fortunate she meets each day.

"I don't bring joy." A warning, a chance for her to escape me for now settles in her ears, but she doesn't take the opportunity I offer.

She tilts her head in concentration, looking at me with eyes of someone that knows and feels so much more than the average person. She is not like everyone else, that's a given. "You do, to some, I'm sure of it. Do you think I'm ready?"

"Is anyone ever ready?" I question, the corner of my mouth turning upwards in a humor long since overlooked.

"I guess some are, but I'm not yet," she places her stirrer on a napkin and continues. "What is your name? Do you have one?"

"Edward."

"Edward," she repeats, my moniker rolling off her tongue like honey, honey I want to lap up and enjoy along with her. "I'm-"

"Bella. Yes, you certainly are," I interrupt, hoping she doesn't think too hard about why I have this information already.

She smirks at my poorly disguised flirtation at the meaning of her name, and tilts her head back, taking a sip of hot liquid I'm suddenly shocked to feel coating my throat, as if it were my own that was welcoming the drink.

I'm stunned, floored at the sensation of physically feeling what she is so acutely. It's unusual, not expected, and I stand quickly, removing myself from the intensity of the connection between us that must be a mistake.

"I…must go." And with that, for the second time, I turn to quickly leave her warm body and her heated mind behind.

Once outside, away from her, I reflect on this newfound information as I walk at a quick pace, a briskness I am not used to. The knowledge that I can feel her begins to ease my guilty thoughts just a bit as I slow my frenzied gait. Perhaps this is the way it's supposed to go in her case. Surely everyone is different, yes? Perhaps I haven't failed so spectacularly. Perhaps she is just that special.

* * *

Rambling through the crowd of carolers that prepare themselves for the celebration of their religious icon, the man they embrace as saving them from all sins, snow starts to fall and I know I've done wrong, bent and deformed my role. When I watch her, I'm sure of my new theory, when I'm alone, I doubt.

She permeates my ethereal thoughts, enlivens my physical body, until all I can see is her in every hour of my day, in every facet of my irresponsibility. I've deftly avoided my job, lost in the foreign feelings one human can have for another. It's been…freeing.

I've abstained from further contact, but just because I haven't approached her again doesn't mean I've left her.

I look on as she continues visiting the elderly, souls that should be on my list but because I've become irresponsible, now lie on the list of others that share my undertaking.

I watch her body move as she gives her precious hours to those that need shelter, clothing, and food like she has all the time in the world to help others.

I feel her love as she dotes on a mother that will succumb after her, but won't, even though her weak figure and declining mind should say otherwise.

My elders have begun to question me, to call me to task and decipher why I've failed at my assignment. I give petty excuses, ones that are human and not of what we know.

"It's beyond time," I'm told. "You're not saving her," I'm reprimanded. "It's coming, it's not up to you."

I try to explain the revelation I had in that coffee shop, the physical feelings that told me perhaps this is destined to be her way, but they look to each other with concern for me, passing between these higher entities as a silent conversation. They don't see what I do, a soul so beautiful that my gift is a waste.

I get angry, as I think of her and the passion for me I know is in her that's awakened my own. The present I once gave lovingly now seems a harsh fate, one that should be destined for others. There are many other people that life should end prematurely for. Those that rape and kill and abuse, but that isn't how this works.

For the first time, I question what I do, for she is none of those.

To me, she is light. She is life. She is love.

They tell me perhaps I require time to reflect, to rejuvenate the honor I once felt for what we do within myself, but I deny their cautious suggestion of help from another.

It can't be anyone but me…I won't let it.

She is mine.

* * *

While I comprehend what I need to do, why I'm here, I still defy it.

We begin to walk on the days where the weather doesn't impede her travels, when there is no rain or snow that keeps her inside in the comfort of what she believes is a life fulfilled without a partner. Her meals for one make me lonely; they make me want to be the one to share them.

We stroll side by side leisurely, her knowing what I am and what I'm here to do, but accepts regardless.

"So you're not a man?" she asks, and I scoff, correcting her.

"I'm very much a man. Flesh and bone as you are. I just go through existence unobserved by most."

"Except me," she says, the hair not caught in her jacket flowing around her in the breeze that kicks up around us.

"I am a living thing, but most refuse to see me." I answer in avoidance of the real issue. I'm not quite sure how to explain something I'm not sure of myself. "You weren't supposed to see me for this…long."

I watch her eyes as my words catch up to her thoughts, and she nods. "That day in the park, was that the first time?" I hum in affirmation. "I would've gone with you…willingly," she says almost shyly as she averts her gaze.

"You wouldn't have been able to refuse me, had I done what I was supposed to."

"How could anyone refuse the beauty that is you?" she asks suddenly, turning and looking at me with those eyes so full of lust that I want to come back as the man I once was, and be cherished by them in the most basic, instinctual way.

"I am not," I say, hesitantly, knowing I'm about to cross a line; one that I'm not sure has ever been crossed. "You. You are the beauty."

Feelings stir within me, long inactive, feelings I haven't felt since I was in her place, going to work and existing among these people. Meeting someone, loving and touching, sharing myself in that way.

A stomach that still exists but rarely surfaces twists, as her cheeks heat and her eyes sparkle, her lips turning into a deathly sexual smile under my compliment.

The kiss I wish to give her is not the kiss I should.

* * *

A new, unwelcome feeling I've not had to suffer in decades surges through me as I wander among those still with their colors glowing and not yet nearing empty.

Fury.

It floods me. Feelings surface that I know I should ignore. Lust is at war with the pull of what I must do, both just as strong as the other. The strange sensation of my body awakening as I think of her presence exacerbates my ire. My mind yearns to hear her thoughts, longs to see her visions, and I can't deny that my otherworldly life craves her very much concrete one.

I want her. The way a red-blooded male seeks his prey.

An ache so inflamed, so vibrant and saturated invades me when I'm apart from her, but isn't satiated when I give in and spend the fleeting moments I allow myself with her.

I want to touch her, to lick and consume her. Every part of her.

Her neck when she moves her hair as she reaches to pick up a fallen leaf to twirl between her fingers, her stomach as her shirt lifts while she strains for a balloon that's lost its way in a tree, her legs as she walks next to mine, unafraid.

I think of nothing but her, of having her, in these moments when I know our time is running out. It's my fault this is preposterously tardy but I'm defiant, I can't let her go. Not until my skin meets hers, until I've felt all of her physique under mine. It's impossible, it must be, but the need doesn't change within me as much as I'd like it to.

The lust I have for her is as strong as her lust for life.

These are the thoughts I fight, as I relapse time and time again from staying away from her until it's time.

"Tell me about what your world is like," she asks, as we sit in an empty bistro, hot soup in front of her to warm her body of the chill that's settled over the city.

"My world is effervescent. It is completeness," I answer, watching with desire-filled eyes as they follow the movement her mouth makes while it welcomes the fuel she needs.

"Completeness," she laughs, the sound tinkling through my body and enrapturing me, catching me in its spell. "How can one feel complete when they don't know love?"

"Why do you assume I don't know love?" I ask, itching to touch the cheek that she rests in her palm. Creamy in texture, pink from cold, and perhaps, from my closeness as well.

"I don't know what you've come from, what you've experienced," she shrugs, the shoulders under her blouse rising, causing the fabric to ripple and beckon my hand to reach out and smooth it over her collarbone.

I resist, yet again. "I was a man. I had love. I'm not immune."

"So you've been in love?" she asks with eyebrows raised, the sparkle in her eyes jumping in fascination.

"Most definitely. One doesn't move to where I am without knowing what loss is about. To know loss, you must know love."

She contemplates me, and I watch as her mind turns and her body shifts, taking in and working through what I've revealed. "So, did you have a family?"

"I did. I had a wife," I answer, recalling in the hazy mist that is a memory the face that always smiled at me.

"And what happened there…to bring you here?" she asks hesitantly, and I wish to grab her hand in reassurance that I want nothing more than to share myself with her.

I choose my words carefully, not wanting to bring sorrow to an evening I'm enjoying. "The time was not right for us, to have what we had. We died, and for whatever reason they," and I look up to the ceiling of the restaurant, "decided I could do good here, releasing others."

"Not her? Why you?"

I can't remember a time I'd had to think of any existence but this one, and I collect my thoughts for a moment before answering. "I…was a healer. A doctor. I lived my life to save others. Children, which would've had more time had they not been brought to life in the famine stricken countries I found myself working in. I saved many, some that unnatural medicines should perhaps not have saved, causing more strife and elongated pain, more than was necessary. Prolonging death that was inevitable. I suppose, in a way, I now give them relief as a gift."

"Has anyone ever told you how remarkable you are?" she puts her spoon down and asks suddenly, making my insides jolt, the newly found itch in my quiet body flickering anew.

"No, most see me as a cruel end."

"I think you're stunning," she whispers, and we both see our hands inching towards each other, the spark between our fingertips almost visible as they rest inches apart.

"And I think you are magnificent."

My lungs fill as she takes in a large swallow of air. "Is that why you haven't kissed me yet?" she asks, laying it all out on the table with our reaching hands.

I look at her bright eyes, so willing to listen, to accept, that I can only tell her the truth.

"I haven't kissed you yet because I don't want this to end."

* * *

I decide to not stay away and spend every day with her that I can, every moment, our bodies craving the closeness. She asks when and where she'll see me next at the parting of each evening. Her breath quickens at my nearness when we say goodnight at her steps, her body showing signs of excitement that are impossible to ignore. My eyes burn into hers, and she must see what she does to me. Like the swallow of coffee and the lungful of air, I feel my body responding to her arousal, as a man will when he wants another. I find myself wanting to fill her body with my own, but scared to push my form against hers regardless of the way she looks as if she wants to embrace me, for fear she'll feel the hardness I've currently come to expect when she's near. The physical stiffening that gives me the idea that perhaps I can have her the way I want.

It's a Sunday as we stroll through the light snow that's falling, down cobblestone streets that beckon me to hold her elbow lest she slip on the wet pavers. Instead, I guide her with a sway of my hand to a grassy patch along the street, barely dusted in tiny white flakes, and she steps gladly, following my direction as we walk for a while.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to bring you to your place of business," her sudden giggle surprises me in the quiet that fell upon us as we enjoyed the empty street.

I look up to see the open, wrought iron gates of a cemetery, gray in its marble, green in its earth, and newly white in its air. I feel her move next to me and she passes under the arch with the scrolling ivy and lettering, so I follow.

"Ah, you see? This is not my office, merely the warehouse."

She turns to me, smiling wildly, brows quirked and her eyes wide. "Did you just make a joke?"

"I think I might have," I say, just as confused.

She turns then and continues her stroll down the lane we've found ourselves on. She is careful not to step where they lie beneath, but leans over to catch names, dates, and salutations of those that reside here. "I don't want to end up here."

"No, you don't belong here."

"Where do I belong?" She moves to a large monument, running her fingers over the smooth white marble. Fingers that taunt, fingers I want touching me in much the same way. I almost see the heat she leaves behind, a red handprint and the ghostly neon trails that follow as she glides her hand around a sharp corner.

_You belong with me._

"You belong elsewhere, a place where you make children laugh, make the sick feel better, the sad…happy. Heaven. That's where you belong."

"Is that where you are?" She stops as she rounds the side of the massive shrine and presses her back against it. Snow clings to the hair flowing out of her knit cap and catches on her red lips.

"No, I'm very much here with you."

"Prove it," her breath teases as it flows out in a puff of white air between us. "Touch me."

I stare at her, moving my eyes from hers and down her cheeks to her dewy lips. Over the skin of her exposed neck and across the breasts that push out her coat. I feel my blood race to the part of me that has recently remembered what its use was.

"Can you not touch me? Is that the deal?" And I see the remorse in her eyes; hear the panic that has risen in her voice as it traces against my ears.

I raise my hand quickly, holding it just over her face, hesitant, yet aching. When my fingers faintly touch the delicate part where her frosty cheek meets her jaw, a burn crawls up my arm and ignites my entire body.

"Oh!" she cries as her eyes close, and her hand instantly comes up to where I'm touching her, hovering over where we're finally joined.

"Please, open your eyes," I beg, needing to see how she feels, how _I_ feel on her where I lay my hand, as my skin touches hers.

"I can't," she barely moves her lips as she speaks, "I'm afraid you're not real. If I don't open them, I'll feel your hand on me forever."

"Does this feel real?" I grow bold and place my entire hand against her chilled face, cupping the skin that I'd just touched like a feather strongly in my palm.

Her head tilts to lean against my hand, and her eyes flutter open. "Feel me."

These two words light a fire within me that I don't know I've ever known. Not even…then. The smiling face from my dim memory isn't attached to the fire I feel now.

Only her.

My other hand moves to the button of her coat, and I unlatch one, then the next, my fingers dexterous in the cold where another man's might not be. I slide my hand beneath the wool and skim the inside, curving around her ribcage right under her breasts, but not touching the fabric of her sweater. I move lower, catching the hem with two fingers to delicately move the cloth so my hand can reach under. I look at her eyes to see any hesitation, and what I see there is that red passion fully engulfing her.

Like a hot branding iron over a cow's hide, my hand sizzles against her skin, and a moan escapes me.

The hand that still rests on her face drops to the shoulder below as her hand slides up between us and rests on my coatless body. She startles at the feel of me. "I didn't think you'd be cold, but I didn't think you'd feel so…warm."

"That's you. That's the passion that lives in you that you're feeling, entering and heating me."

"Feel my cheek now," she says, and takes her hand to pull the one lying on her shoulder back towards her face. My fingers press under her guidance and the skin that was cold from a winter's day is as fiery as the sun in summer.

"This is lust, your lust for me, that I feel flowing through myself, isn't it?"

"It is."

* * *

Blood surges through me like it used to, pumping in my ears and causing my wrist to pulse with the beat of my heart.

She's taken me to her apartment, a cozy nook where her displays of art and eclectic furnishings speak of a home. There are pictures of the elderly mother I've seen her with, next to a man with a mustache in a dated wedding photo.

Other scenes from her life play out before me, a happy girl in pigtails, a puppy licking her young face, a family vacation to a beach.

Books line the walls, some standing upright, others lying on their sides, making an unsorted display. I feel her watching me as I inspect the things that she feels close to, the things that she feels the need to own.

"Do you remember much…from before? Like favorite books or anything?" She asks as she slides closer, filling me with the sense of her. I watch as her fingers trace the cracked spines of well-read novels, much like they trailed over the monument just before. She leaves her red trails here, too.

"Not really. I believe I liked to dance." I cock my head to the side, wondering where that might have come from. I don't really have a memory of dancing, I try to picture that smiling woman, try to see if I've twirled her around a floor, but all I have is the sense that I remember it.

She turns, taking her coat off as she walks, throwing it onto a chair. She turns on her stereo equipment and selects a classical station. The sound is pleasing, and I smile as she turns back to me. "Dance with me?" she asks, and moves towards me with arms spread, inviting me to take them and guide her.

"I'm not sure I know what to do." I move slowly, and my hand rises to catch hers in midair, suspended between us. Just like the other times I've had the pleasure of feeling her, the electricity between us makes itself known. My fingers curl around hers, and she drifts closer still. My other hand raises and hesitantly touches the sweater on her back, and I feel her hand rise to my shoulder and I know this is a classic dance position.

She begins to move, and I have no choice but to follow. We are light as air as we circle, step, and glide across her floor slowly, her eyes closing while a smile forms on her ruby lips. I take my time to look at her then, at every part that is so close to me, her hair, her skin, her ears, she's undeniably perfect.

She catches me gazing at her lips once she reopens her eyes and I feel her hand leave mine to slide up the front of my crisp, white shirt. She moves impossibly closer, and I feel her breasts press against me. "I have one regret."

No, no regrets. Not for her. "What is it? I'll do my best." I try to reassure her.

"I'll never feel your lips on mine, until…then." Her eyes are all at once sad and lustful, and I'd do anything to take one of those away.

The hand she left empty moves to delicately take the one pressed between us, and I watch her intently as I lower my head slightly while bringing her hand to me. Her eyes are on fire as I press my lips to her knuckles. She sucks in a breath at the feel of me, and I marvel at the way her skin feels so achingly soft as I press my mouth to her hand, opening slightly to taste her. I pull back and see she's still concentrating on me intently, so I flip her hand over slowly and cradle it in my own as I press my mouth to her open palm.

"I guess I was wrong," she says breathily, as if under a spell, as she watches my mouth move across her hand towards her wrist. "Can I…" she trails off and I cease my actions, pulling my face back from where it was traveling.

"I beg you to." I hear the intensity in my own voice, and my body vibrates, waiting for her to move. Desire flows over me, pours out of every cell of my being, as this moment becomes the most important moment I've ever had. Touching her is splendid, but when she presses her lips against the opening of my shirt, warm and soft on my throat, I know the reason for all of this. Why I've let her live, why I've let her consume me the way I have. While most need the phrase I utter and the comfort of my touch as I send them on their way, she needs more before she goes.

She needs me as much as I've come to need her.

Gone is the hesitancy when I wrap my arms around her, giving in to the feel of her mouth as it plays up towards my neck. My hands move to her silky hair, massaging and getting lost. She moans against me as I hold her closer, and her head tilts up, her lips on my chin, across my jaw…until suddenly.

"Stop!" I cry, afraid she's come to close. "Not there. Not yet," I say as she looks at me dazed until understanding crosses her features.

I feel her chest heaving against mine, her fingers folding and grasping the fabric of my shirt where they still rest on my shoulder. "Not yet, no," she agrees.

She steps back and slides her hand to catch mine, her feet beginning to move backwards, guiding me to follow. We step through a doorway and the late day winter sun casts a gray and ice blue shadow across the place she rests each night.

"I want you…to love me, as much as I love you." She moves her hand and I swallow as I watch her lift her sweater from her body, up over her head, catching her hair and causing it to swing down freely with the scent of vanilla as she pulls the garment completely off. She's left in a thin white sleeveless shirt, and my eyes fall to her breasts, pointed and needy. Needy for my touch, for my mouth. I stop her as she's about to pull off her undershirt.

"Please, let me," I ask, searching her face for any sign not to proceed, but she agrees with a nod of her head.

Wanting to draw out our time together as much as possible, I move both hands to her waist and slide them gently up the sides of her ribcage under the shirt, feeling her warm and soft and alive. Her breathing escalates slightly, as my hands move higher, my thumbs brushing the underside of each breast. "You feel so…good," is all I can say, before I move gently to capture each breast fully in my hands. I marvel at the sensation of hardened nipples under my palms, and my eyes widen as she moans, enjoying the feel of me just as much.

She encourages me to undress her fully, and I thank her, as I adore every inch of her that I uncover. When she stands before me, glorious in her nudity, I move to kiss her stomach, my mouth tracing over each rib, before circling behind her to press my lips to each vertebra. She's hot on my lips as they explore, turning her body around to face me again so that I can taste each beautiful breast.

Her hands slide to my hair as I lick and suck each nipple in turn, my fingers cascading up and down her back. She moves to the buttons of my shirt, and I remove my mouth from her skin with a moan of loss at missing her taste, to allow her to slide my shirt down my arms and off my body.

"You are perfect, you are a God," she whispers, her fingers tracing over each defined muscle and ripple of my chest.

"No, merely an angel," I answer in the same whisper, my thoughts becoming muddled as the sensation of her hands on me takes over and I feel myself letting go, letting myself get lost in her attention; letting myself feel like a man. She removes the rest of my clothing, and I stand before her, completely at her mercy. I've never felt so exposed, but I've also never wanted anything more than her eyes on me.

"You're not the angel of death. To me, you're the most wonderful, my angel, Edward." Her lips press forcefully against my heart, beating solely for her, before moving on to touch and kiss and lick me much the same as I did her. I tip my head back as her hands and mouth explore my back, feeling each tendon and muscle.

I've never felt so alive, so full of life, _her_ life, and I turn quickly, startling her, and press my mouth against her neck in a sudden act of desperation. I lick, I taste, I want to sample every bit of her. I'm completely submerged in the feelings of lust that devour me.

Her moans fill the room as I use my mouth on her in only the safe places, reveling in the feeling of her blood racing to the surface under each spot I visit. My mouth won't relent its adoration of her as she tilts herself back on her bed, pulling me down on top of her.

Skin on skin, her life completely pressed against whatever it is that I have. Every inch of her that touches me sparks and ignites my long lost soul; her body makes me feel more human than ever before. I don't know that I've ever felt as alive as I do now, even in my dim memories of what I was before I was this entity.

Our mouths worship greedily, our hands grip fiercely, clinging to any part of the other that is hot and needy. I feel her hand graze my hardness, impossibly causing it to want her more, and she strokes, she grasps, until my mind is filled with nothing but entering her body. Her breath warms me, her scent envelops me, her sex welcomes me, wet and desirable as I find myself stroking her in return. I shift down, wanting every bit of her that she'll allow, and when my mouth lands between her parted legs, beautifully splayed open to let me in, I know what heaven tastes like. I become voracious, licking and sucking on her, lost in the headiness that is her. No fruit was ever as succulent, no dessert ever so sweet. Her body writhing from my touch is powerfully seductive, until all I know is that I need to take her within me, feel her spirit and _know_ her in the most ravenous, intimate way.

"Edward," she moans and the sound of my name coming from her is the most beautiful sound I've ever heard. I use my tongue to bring her over the edge she needs, her body jumping and slithering from my moans that vibrate against her, as I taste the orgasm she rides. My mouth returns to her skin to guide myself back to her, coveting her tempting body with licks and nips as I go. "Give yourself to me, as I will to you. There is more than one gift that only you can grant me."

My heart stops briefly, my eyes shutting tight at the thought of entering her body and joining us as one breathing, living thing.

My hands run against her arms up to her shoulders, my fingertips tingling with need, desire, and gratitude towards her, this beautiful, perfect soul that sees me in a way no one else ever has.

With a lingering kiss to her throat, I feel her hand as she guides my stiff cock to where she wants me most, and within moments, I'm deeply filling her.

My mind explodes with unfamiliar feelings, all flickering through me like light shines from a prism. Brilliant, flashing plumes of emotion wrack my usually calm demeanor, causing my body to buckle and shudder in excitement. Being inside her is like nothing I've ever known. It's elation; a thousand times brighter than the sun, more spectacular than what lies beyond, and it's all from being contained within her. She is all that is right and good on this earth.

And she's mine.

We move together as my feelings war within me. Consummate joy at the sensation of sliding in and out of her. Envy towards those that get to feel this fulfillment everyday. Wrath towards what I am and what I do. Greed in wanting something so much you can't ever imagine it coming to an end. Gluttony is the desperation of never getting enough of her. They all flow through me as they taunt and show me what it is like to truly live.

I feel a burning in my abdomen, a feeling so foreign yet so correct; I'm having trouble controlling it. I pull back on my knees, grasping her ribs and bringing her with me; the tension that surrounds me as she gathers her legs to hold my body close to hers lets me know she's having trouble as well. Eyes weeping with pleasure meet my own, as I guide her body tightly against mine, her lithe form undulating and pumping itself over me.

Her voice grows louder as she slides up and down my cock, her body hot and open with mine as we dance together so entirely. My mouth clamps onto a reddened nipple with a tug, which makes her cry out, my name falling from her lips repeatedly as she moves faster and holds my shoulders tightly.

I feel it growing, like a thunderstorm beginning to form, until I'm a raging inferno, every point in my body connecting all at once to match hers, and we both shout out, fire like hot lava throbbing through us as we melt together, burning and writhing in what must be the most ultimate feeling a human can have.

Pure ecstasy. I'm blind with it, deaf and mute.

My arms constrict around her, keeping her close, not letting her go and I feel her body begin to quiet. Her breath warms my ear as her hands slide over my smooth skin, still surging and ticking from her nearness.

Words are useless tools, so we don't try to give this a voice. I know she feels what I do; we're now bound together in every way imaginable. Her life will always pump through me as her gift to me. I will always have this experience to take with me, as I continue on with what will continue to be. Sadness crawls over me, resolve at the knowledge that she will soon no longer roam this earth, allowing me covetous glimpses of her as she lives a long and healthy life.

The small pricks in the back of my head cause me to still, fear flowing through where passion resided just moments ago. Like ivy on brick, like shadows on pavement, needles of sensation begin to crawl through my head, racing towards a target that doesn't live in me.

I open my eyes to look at her, dewy skin flushed and freshly heated, and she meets my stare, a look of wonder and satiation on her face, a look that I've been the one to give.

Those same eyes that look at me with such tenderness suddenly pinch, her pupils turning to pinpoints as she feels the shockwave in her brain that mirrors my own. Her body stills at the feeling, her hands gripping my shoulders tightly as her eyes search mine, and I know it's resolution that she sees reflected back. I lay her down gently, my hands cradling her head that's raging inside, and as I do so a small smile forms on her face. Her lips part, as if wanting to speak, but instead they allow the smile to broaden as she looks at me with pure, unequivocal trust.

A tear from somewhere above her lands on her cheek, and I find my lips kissing it away as I move towards her ear. I inhale her scent, the goodness that she's lived, and I swallow, prepared to say the words I know I must. While it's a phrase I say to all that gives every human the knowledge that they've succeeded in life, these words have never felt more true than when I whisper them into my beautiful Bella's ear.

"You are loved."

Her body relaxes as I hover over her, taking in her beauty one last time. My head lowers, ignoring the pain that ruptures inside me, and I press my lips to hers, not gently, not as a whisper, but as a man kisses the woman he loves.

* * *

The sun rises and sets, the ocean crests and falls, and I continue sharing my gift with those that are due. Walking beside those that aren't ready is still a thing of beauty, an enjoyment I don't take for granted.

Trees are greener, the air is cleaner, and I am lighter.

She now walks with me, among those that prefer not to see, and her goodness and love helps those that fight their last moments. She calms them, comforts them, and kisses them with pure, absolute forgiveness, taking their sins and absolving them of their burden.

I'm prideful as she gives her gift to those whose time has come, her heart showing and beating with each life she releases. She's enlivened my own, and I know in her lips they find what they're looking for as they move beyond this world.

I look up to the sky, the heavens, the afterlife, and smile at my elders for their own gift to me, the most precious gift. An existence that's no longer lonely and filled with the weight of what I do.

They have given me her.


	6. Sloth

**_Sloth_: **_noun \ˈslȯth, ˈsläth also ˈslōth\ (Latin - Acedia)_

1 **:** disinclination to action or labor

_2 _**:** spiritual apathy and inactivity

* * *

_"For Satan finds some mischief still for idle hands to do."_ —Isaac Watts

When there was a knock at my door, I muted the TV as quickly as possible. I knew who it was; I knew it was my landlord looking to collect this month's rent, and I didn't want to deal with it. It's only May 2nd, and I was sure he'd let me slide until…until a miracle happened.

I'd already been to the hockshop earlier this week to pawn some jewelry to pay a few utilities.

And I wasn't sure what I had left that'd be of value.

Nine months without a job and I was officially broke, screwed, and yet I had no enthusiasm to look for work. My weekly unemployment benefits were helping me skate by, but it's been reduced the past three months.

Instead of living week-to-week, I'm living hand-to-mouth, day-to-day.

At this point, I'm just avoiding the inevitable—moving in with my father.

I'm not even sure why I bother.

Scavenging and saving is even more stressful, more of a hassle than any job I'd ever had.

After tiptoeing to the door, I took a quick peek and saw my landlord get into his truck. He drove away, which made me sigh with relief, and then I went right back to the couch.

I fell face-first and groaned at the same time my belly growled.

"Shit…" I pulled the blanket over my head, hoping to doze off for a bit.

What's even worse than being twenty-six, unemployed, unmarried, and unenthused…is my inability to do a fucking thing about anything. I know I have to fix this. I know I need a job. I know I need a hobby to make this overwhelming sense of boredom ebb.

But I just don't care.

_For fuck's sake, what's wrong with me? _

This…lack of empathy, being totally detached and indifferent toward everything was eating me alive.

I'd been ambitious my entire life, excelled at school, got a college degree, and then a career. It was all nonstop before I was laid off.

I used to be happy.

Now, I'm just existing.

Wallowing.

Logically, I know I'm supposed to take life by the balls—live, work, seek thrills, and it has to come from myself, come from within. But it's as though I'm waiting, waiting for something to happen.

When my stomach rumbled again, I groaned, burrowing my head into my couch cushion.

I didn't even feel like exerting the amount of energy it'd take to make myself something to eat.

Luck, however, was on my side this afternoon; I'd managed to fall asleep.

* * *

It was crazy dark when I woke up, startlingly so, but I knew I'd left the TV on.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!" I kicked my blanket away and crawled to the opposite side of the sofa to try the lamp.

Nothing happened.

Feeling as though I might cry, I collapsed back.

They shut my power off.

Again, I thought I'd had another week to play with. Like an idiot, I paid my cable bill because I didn't want to lose my internet.

Before I succumbed to tears, I grabbed my pre-paid cell off the coffee table. I used the bullshit screen as a flashlight while I looked around for my sneakers.

My Crocs were better than nothing, and since I wasn't about to waste my precious phone minutes, I left my apartment to knock on my neighbor's door.

Rosalie is a lot more than my neighbor, though. We're close but not as close as we used to be. She'd been my roommate at UDub—one of those friends you can go days and weeks without speaking to, and yet pick up where you'd left off whenever you see them again.

I heard music playing so I was sure she had electricity.

"Bella…?" She stared at me, half-hidden by the door. "Everything okay?"

"Can I come in?" I asked.

Rose grinned, motioning for me to enter.

Walking into her living room, I noticed the lights were dim, candles illuminated the room, and there was a bottle of wine…

"You have company?" I stopped myself from going farther.

Rose waved a hand. "Just Emmett."

My eyes widened and I brought my voice down. "You guys…again?" Emmett was someone I've also known for a while. They've been fucking on and off since sophomore year.

Rose had a seat on her couch. "I was bored," she whispered.

I nodded and peered around, wondering where he was.

"He's asleep," she informed me. "What brings you here?"

"My…power's out." I had no idea why I was here, either. The longer I stood in her nice apartment with her expensive furniture, the more I wanted to retreat back to my dump.

She grimaced, looking constipated or confused before gazing around herself. "I still have power."

I threw my hands up. "Yeah, I bet you paid your bill, Einstein."

"Oh." She pursed her lips giving me one solemn nod. "You're welcome to spend the night, but…" Rose just stopped talking to look over her shoulder, toward her bedroom.

"No…you have company, even if it is just Emmett." There was no way I'd sleep over, cramp her style.

"I thought you had an interview last week. How'd that go?" she asked.

I'd lied about that job interview, so as to not sound pathetic, lazy. "They went with someone who had more experience."

"That sucks…You taught those brats for over a year. You have experience." She snorted, lifting her wineglass to take a large sip.

I didn't comment.

My love of music and teaching led me toward becoming a music teacher. These days, I don't give a flying fuck about either. Nevertheless, and unluckily for me, recent slashes in the budget makes acquiring any teaching post difficult.

And in the great state of Washington, music programs are _constantly_ cut from the public school curriculum.

But the position I'd fabricated was to be a substitute.

"I don't wanna talk about it." I yearned to change the subject. "How's…work going for you?" As far as I know, Rose is an event planner or some bullshit. She's self-employed, runs a small business right out of her apartment, and her line of work seems to be recession-proof—judging by how she's been living.

Rose smiled wide. "It's going well…I…I have an engagement tonight. Starts at midnight." She stared at me again; her eyes went from my feet and up to my greasy hair, which made me feel self-conscious. "When was the last time you showered, sweetie?"

I rolled my eyes, and another lie spilled from me with ease, "Earlier. Today. I just didn't wash my hair."

Rose hummed, her beady eyes fixated on me once again.

"What is it?" I plopped down next to her and grabbed the bottle of wine to take a swig.

"Bella—" she grasped my hand "—what if I told you that you could make some money tonight?"

"Doing what? Waitressing or something?" I'd be a jerk to turn her down, but I couldn't imagine busting my ass for a lousy fifty bucks.

"Or…something." She raised a brow. "Enough to…pay the electric, put more minutes on that bullshit phone—" she glanced at my hand "—and maybe enough to pay your rent."

"And…what would I be doing?" It almost seemed too good to be true, and I was intrigued by her words alone.

"I'm…hosting a small bachelor party at the Marriott." She quirked a brow. "You know what I mean…?"

"Like…?" I had an idea of what she meant, but I needed her to spell it out.

Rose giggled. "You'd be…the entertainment."

"Stripping?" I shouted. "What the fuck—"

"Shhh." She clamped a hand over my mouth. "You'd only do what you're comfortable with. Obviously, the more you do, the more money you'll make." She removed her perfectly manicured paw from my face. "You clean up nice…Oh, and you know my friend Tanya. The one who had a baby last year?"

"I…" I had no idea how to respond.

"It's real easy money, and these guys—the ones that'll be at this party—have _plenty_ of it," she sighed. "All you gotta do is put on something skimpy, and you can pour drinks, talk to a few dudes…maybe dance with Tanya." She tapped her chin. "I remember. Freshman year, you gave that douche—what was his name?—a lap dance."

"Tyler." He was someone I wished to forget, and I almost did—hadn't thought of him in years. "I was drunk."

She pushed the wine bottle in my direction. "It's totally safe, Bella. I mean, Emmett'll be there." She smiled, encouraging.

"Emmett?" The thought of doing anything close to what she'd described with Emmett around, someone I'd come to think of as a cousin, turned my stomach.

"He just keeps an eye on things, makes sure things don't get out of hand. That's all." Rose almost seemed…hopeful? "Again, it's easy money. You'll get paid just for partying with these guys. And if…you do more than hang with anyone, which is totally at your own discretion, don't accept anything less than $400."

My stomach dropped once more as I gulped from the bottle. "I…" Speechless, my gaze fell to my feet.

"It's $400 for a fuck, $200 for a blow job, and $50 for a hand job—"

"Rose!" I exclaimed, surprised by how blasé she'd sounded. "Is this…what you do? Event planning…as in, you're a hooker?"

She laughed, throwing her head back. "No…Silly Bella." Rose patted my thigh. "What I do is a whole lot classier than that shit." Her tone was serious now. "Whatever money you pull in, I get thirty percent. You work for 'tips,' and I get paid a 'finder's fee,' so to speak."

I gasped. "You're a pimp!"

"Jesus…More like a madam, thank you." She scoffed at me, coiffing her hair. "Irina—you know her, too—was gonna take one for the team. She's gotta cold, but if you took her place…?" Rose nudged my bicep. "None of my other girls are available. You'd be doing me a favor, and it'd be win-win."

With nothing to say, I shook my head.

"Bella, you don't have to do anything. It's not mandatory you do anything sexual, nor do you have to lose your shirt." She rolled her eyes at me. "You might just have a good time. I'll be there, chatting them up, too. Tanya does her own thing, and Emmett just keeps watch."

Reiterating, putting it that way, it didn't sound too bad. "And you've always done this?" To say I was surprised would be putting it mildly.

"Not always…but it's taken me over a year to build up a decent clientele. Besides, when was the last time you got laid, did your hair, or…dressed up? When was the last time you went out, actually left your apartment?"

"It's been a while," I whispered.

"Oh, and you'll have to sign a confidentiality agreement."

"Who's having this party?" I asked.

She shrugged. "I can't tell you unless you agree." Rose lifted a finger to point at me. "Whether or not you come tonight, you can't breathe a word of this to anyone. As far as you know, I'm still a wedding planner."

I nodded. "I…your secret's safe with me." I gulped some more wine down. "And I don't hafta sleep with anyone? I can just…do my hair, put makeup on, and then…hang out?"

"Pretty much. Like I said, the more you do, the more you'll make." Rose turned to face me, expectant.

Behind her, I saw Emmett stumble from her bedroom. He was bare-assed naked, flubbing his balls, and I averted my gaze. "'Sup, Bella?"

Rose sucked her teeth. "Put pants on. You'll scare her." My friend thought that was hilarious.

I refused to lift my head. "You act like I've never seen a penis before." True, it'd been a while, but Rose and I partied a lot in college.

"No, I know you've seen a few." She hit my arm. "Look at it this way…how many losers have you slept with and then you regretted it? At least tonight, if you do…you know…you'll walk away with more than a hangover, and you'll be able to pay your electric bill."

Again, when she put it that way…

"Honey, it's easy money." She snapped her fingers. "Easiest money you'll ever make."

And that's how I found myself heading toward the Marriott.

After showering, plucking, and shaving things, it took Rose nearly two hours to give me a makeover. To be honest, I thought I looked pretty good. My hair was teased and left down; it trailed down my back in loose curls. The makeup Rose applied to my face made my features more pronounced.

Fuck. Everything was more pronounced. Especially since I was barely wearing any clothes. The navy blue halter showed too much of my stomach, and my black skirt was too fucking tight.

Overall, I looked like a classy, unused hooker…?

And that's essentially no different from how I'd slut myself up in college.

It's been a while, though, so I was wobbly in my stilettos, and I wished my skirt covered my knobby knees.

Rose had made sure I signed the confidentiality agreement beforehand, but I still had no idea who was at this party.

It _was_ as if we were joining a regular party.

Nothing untoward or suspicious was going on, except for maybe Tanya's red wig…

Now that bitch looked like a damn prostitute. She just had that…essence? When I'd met her in passing, I thought she was kinda trashy.

All the wine I'd had at Rose's along with the ham and cheese sandwich had me feeling decent—a little tipsy. I'd hoped the alcohol would help me come out of my shell.

True to Rose's word, I didn't have to do anything I felt uncomfortable with, but I had to be social.

When we all entered the suite, Rose said something to a very handsome older gentleman—who looked familiar—and then ushered all of us into the bedroom.

Tanya was quick to strip down to a leather one-piece, producing a small whip from her bag of tricks. I'd been so fascinated, watching her, that I didn't notice Rose trying to get my attention.

"Bella—" she grasped my bicep "—are you okay?"

I nodded, nearly swallowing my tongue; I was that nervous.

"No different from college, all right?" Rose smiled. "These are the frat boys of corporate America."

I held my stomach, agreeing. "Who was that guy?"

Emmett laughed. "You don't recognize Seattle's prestigious mayor—Carlisle Cullen?"

My eyes widened. "That's…" He was a lot better looking than what I've seen of him on TV. But Emmett's words placed fear in my gut. "We're gonna get busted." I panicked. "Then, he'll have to call Olivia Pope!"

"Who?" Rose laughed at me.

"Uh…" Instead of going off on a tangent about _Scandal_—my favorite TV show—I tried to cool my jets. "So…is he the bachelor?" As far as I knew, he was married already.

"No…his future-son-in-law. Something Whitlock." Rose shrugged. "Doesn't matter…" She stared at me again, appraising and leaning back into Emmett. "What do you think?" She elbowed his side.

Emmett eyed me, smiling before he whistled. "You look good, Swan. Damn fine. I'd hit it."

I felt my cheeks flush, hearing that shit from him.

_Who the fuck was Emmett?_ I thought.

Actually, hiding in the bedroom, and giving a few hand jobs didn't seem so bad…?

I shook my head of the thought.

"What…? You wanna leave?" Rose asked.

"No," I whispered.

Tanya came to stand next to us, looking like some sleazy dominatrix. _Yes, she managed to make the already-tawdry concept appear cheap._ "I'll head out—get this party started." She winked at me. "Have a couple more drinks and join me." She was quick to leave the room with her MP3 player.

"You'll be fine." Rose hugged me close. "Any hint of trouble, you just look at Emmett."

"That's right," Emmett agreed. "I always keep an eye out, babe." He nudged me, grinning down to my cleavage.

"Seriously?" Rose stared up to him.

"Hey…" Emmett shrugged and then widened his arms. "You're about to have ten guys drooling over you." He poked her nose.

Rose giggled.

I blew out a calming breath, hearing an uproar coming from the other room—men hooting and hollering. Some techno music blared, and I'd bet Tanya was grinding up on the guests already.

"I can do this," I told myself.

"You can." Rose nodded. "Keep your eye on the prize—paying those bills."

I looked into the mirror to check my makeup and lift my tits. "After you guys." I gestured to the door.

"I'm right here if you need me," Emmett reminded me, opening the door for Rose. "Go get 'em, tiger." He winked and gave me a pat on my ass.

I jumped, surprised, and I almost fell on my face. Luckily, I just stumbled into Rose's back. She's so tall, I was able to right myself quickly. "Sorry."

She reached behind herself to squeeze my hand.

"All right, gentlemen!" Tanya shouted, staring back at me. "We have a virgin joining us this evening." She presented me like a game show host.

There were almost too many happy faces to focus on, but they all cheered me on—except for one. The man in the corner stared right at me, and he didn't smile, he didn't do anything. And his unwavering stare that I caught myself on…it was intense and kind of frightening. He was absolutely gorgeous, though. Tall with broad shoulders and tousled bronze hair—

Realizing I'd been staring, I smiled and waved to the rest of them.

Tanya carried on like I wasn't even here, and I stuck close to Rose, following her to the small bar.

She was quick to hand me another glass of white wine. "Do you want something…heavier?" She raised a brow.

I shook my head, guzzling my drink down. "Another."

Rose smiled, pouring more Chardonnay into my glass. "You wanna hang out here?" She was too busy gazing at the party guests.

I didn't reply, still sipping my wine.

"Last one." Rose tried to steal the glass from me.

I gave it up without a fight, trying to catch my breath. I was all the more relaxed and a bit smiley.

"Don't need you to be all belligerent," she whispered. "Now…go mingle." Rose tilted her head toward the crowd. "You can join Tanya—just start dancing."

I snorted, wondering if my friend knew me at all. "Maybe after another glass…" I pointed to the wine.

"Liquid courage?" someone asked.

Whoever was behind me spoke into my ear, and I felt his breath hit my cheek. His voice was seductive and placed a knot in my stomach.

I smiled, slightly turning my head to acknowledge him.

The mean-looking, bronze-haired hottie was less than a foot away from me.

Rose stared at me wide-eyed, pouring some more Chardonnay into my glass.

I waited for my wine, stuck on stupid.

"What's her name?" he asked, placing my hair behind my ear.

His touch made me shudder, made butterflies invade my stomach, and I tried to mask it best I could.

"This is…Chardonnay." Rose shoved my glass into my hand.

With my heart hammering away, I lifted it in a toasting gesture. "Bottom's up."

_Swan, you're a moron._

"Chardonnay…?" He turned my chin to face him.

Feeling bold, my eyes met his. "Yes."

He hummed, his hand trailing down to my lower back.

Again, his touch gave me a chill, the good kind.

And just on looks alone…

Oh boy.

I would have fucked him sober...and for free.

Knowing then that I was in trouble, I drank a bit faster.

But Rose, that sneaky bitch, stole my wine away once more. "Mingle," she whispered.

Completely unsure of myself, I turned back to the sexy dude, hoping he'd tell me his name. Searching my brain for adjectives was going to become tiresome. "Would you like something to drink…?"

He smirked and my thong slipped from my hips.

No, not really.

_But he had a grin that I wanted to sit on. _

"I'm pretty high up on the mountain right now, baby." That voice was going to kill me. "You wanna come skiing with me?" He pulled me against his obvious erection.

I placed my hands flat onto his chest, and a fucking giggle escaped me. "Sorry."

"Awww, don't hide from me, doll." His nose skimmed along my cheek and to my ear. "You smell good."

I wanted to tell him the same exact thing. His scent and strong arms had me thinking I might melt in the embrace of a stranger.

"Ease up, Cullen," Rose laughed, breaking us apart.

"Cullen?" I stared up into his emerald green eyes, and I noticed he bore a striking resemblance to the mayor.

"Edward." He held my gaze and extended his hand. "And the name your mother gave _you_…?" He shrugged, nonchalant with a glint in his eyes. "Unless your mom was a fan of wine." His words made me smile.

"This is Bella." Rose stopped me from shaking his hand. "She doesn't ski and she's here to keep _me_ company." She hugged me from behind.

Edward followed her hands that were slowly trailing down to my hips. "Personal stock, huh?" He grinned, scratching his brow with his index finger.

"The best." Her hands came up to graze my stomach. "Doubt you could afford it anyhow."

That had Edward's attention, and all the amusement left his face. "Try me."

"Not for sale." Rose pushed my hair away from my neck to place a kiss down. "Sorry…When Tanya's finished with her set, I'm sure she—"

Edward grimaced and just walked away, cutting Rose off.

I whipped around to face her, and I wanted to say a great many things. But how could I admit to wanting to fuck this beautiful stranger? That I'd more than likely sleep with him for free, that I was excited by the prospect alone.

Especially since I haven't felt anything close to excitement in over a year.

"He'll be back," Rose whispered; she looked positively giddy, too.

"Oh…without a doubt," Emmett added.

I took another sip of my namesake, noticing the mayor coming our way. He exchanged a few words with Rose, and then he handed her a bankroll that she stuffed into her bra. "That man…" She watched him walk away.

Wanting to ask about Edward, having his name on the tip of my tongue; I just closed my mouth, knowing there was no use.

This ain't _Pretty Woman_.

What the fuck did I hope to happen?

_Nothing_ was happening.

I was no closer to paying my electric bill than I was yesterday.

"Um…" I gave up again, shut my mouth and turned back to the crowd.

They were going apeshit, pawing at Tanya while she spanked some blonde-haired dude. "What the fuck…?" I whispered, and now I was trying not to laugh. Tanya was really going for it with her whip, and that guy kept shouting and asking for more.

"That's the groom-to-be. Cute, right?" Rose asked.

I shook my head, thinking Mr. Whit-something looked like a fifteen-year-old.

"He'll be back, Bella," she said into my ear. "A man like that… He gets what he wants when he wants it. And, trust me, he never has to pay for it. He must be real interested." She chuckled, her tone teasing. "A small chase is good." Rose squeezed my hip.

I rolled my eyes. "Please…And who—"

Rose laughed at me. "You're clueless. I love you." She kissed my cheek. "Edward Cullen's just an ADA now, a junior prosecutor, but he comes from a powerful political family. Governor Platt is his grandfather...Edward's single, the most eligible bachelor in this city, and I bet he's…absolutely lethal," Rose sighed. "The newspaper dubbed him the West Coast John-John—said something about him possibly heading to the White House…_if_ he can get his act together. There's no way that boy's presidential material." She faced Emmett. "Did you read that article?"

Emmett wasn't paying her any attention, staring out at Tanya.

Rose waved a hand, staring back at me. "He'd get buried by scandals." She kept her tone hushed. "Not the sex kind, but baby boy _loves_ to party."

I looked around the suite and I didn't see Edward anywhere.

Thankfully, another gentleman approached the bar. He asked me for a drink, so I busied myself with that. The way he stared at me was unnerving, but he was decently handsome—tall, tanned skin, and shoulder-length black hair.

"I don't think I've ever seen you at one of these." He sipped his scotch.

"It's my first time," I muttered.

"Right." He nodded, pointing in Tanya's direction. "She called you a virgin." His eyes never left me. "I can be gentle."

I laughed at him, or his bravado because his words were corny—fucking lame. This dude had no game. "Oh, really?"

He winked. "I'm Jake."

"Uh…Chardonnay." I shook his hand.

"Is that French?" He quirked a brow.

I had no idea, but I agreed.

"I'll catch up to you later, sweetheart." He placed a kiss on my knuckles before rejoining the party.

I tapped Rose's shoulder, curious. "Who—"

"Jacob Black." She laughed through her nose. "He's head of some Native American Coalition." Rose gave me a disapproving look. "You…" She seemed tongue-tied. "I promise. You're not into what he's into."

"I'll take your word for it." I furrowed my brow, curiosity getting the best of me. "What's he into?"

Rose stepped closer to me. "From what I've heard, he…uh, he likes to have his 'dates' puke on him. He doesn't touch them at all; he gets himself off, covered in vomit."

"No way." I called bullshit.

She laughed. "Seriously. I could never make something like that up."

I cringed, instinctively glancing at Puke Boy.

Unfortunately, he was already grilling me.

When our eyes met, he lifted his scotch to kiss the glass.

"Don't look," Rose admonished. "You'll give him the wrong idea."

"Fuck." Needless to say, my shoes became interesting.

It's sad, fucking pitiful that I knew the second Edward Cullen came back to the party. Goose bumps covered my arms, and I was embarrassed.

I needed to get a grip.

This time, I threw back two shots of vodka—Grey Goose—and I hoped I wouldn't get sick. It might entice that creep, Jacob.

"Take it easy," Emmett warned.

I blew out a calming breath, stuck between a rock and a hard place.

On one hand, I would be content if Seattle's John-John eye-fucked me some more.

On the other . . .

I wanted to go home.

My apartment, where there's no electricity, no TV, and by now…no heat.

All too quickly, and within the confines of my fuzzy brain, I was back at that desperate place.

There was no way I could leave.

This was it: an opportunity of a lifetime.

"I'm going to…" I trailed off, peering at Tanya. She was giving another dude a lashing with the whip.

"You're sure?" Rose asked.

"I'm fine." I smoothed down my skirt, feeling even more exposed than I had been. "I'm good." I gave Emmett a reassuring smile.

"You're drunk," my friend whispered.

"Maybe," I admitted, knowing I felt the most ambitious than I had in a long time. "It's possible."

"Come on." Emmett escorted me over toward the crowd, dropping me off near Tanya.

Again, I was a fish out of water, but I was willing to go with the flow.

When Tanya grasped my hand, I let her lead me over to a chair. Wearing a smile, I sat down, knowing what she was going to do. True to form, she didn't waste any time and started moving her hips, giving me one helluva lap dance.

Tanya knew that I didn't know what to do with my hands; she placed them on her breasts.

She was hot, had a nice body, but her closeness did nothing for me.

But over her shoulder…

There were a pair of smoldering green eyes, and his gaze set me on fire.

When Tanya bent low, reaching under my skirt, I let her pull my thong off.

All those dudes got even wilder, money was being tossed at us, and I vaguely remembered someone sticking a bill into my halter top.

"Bella…touch me. It's okay," Tanya whispered.

I stopped her from getting too far, and my eyes were almost closed now. My hands spanned her ass, resting my chin on her hip as I made her cheeks wiggle.

Applause erupted all around us, and I knew my face was red.

But this was insane.

I wasn't sure if it was the alcohol, being desperate and forcing myself to interact…I had no idea, but I felt sexy.

Tanya held my panties in the air. "Gentlemen…?" She twirled them around her finger. "A souvenir? It's the closest you'll get to _that_ pussy. The virgin's off-limits tonight!"

They got even louder, and I had to cover my mouth to hide my giggle.

Then the bidding started on_ my_ underwear.

It was surreal.

Green eyes snatched them away from Tanya and shoved two hundred bucks into my hand.

Proud, and in better spirits than he was earlier, he placed them on his head and lifted his arms victoriously.

I laughed my ass off.

The groom-to-be accosted Tanya, requesting more of her special attention, and I was suddenly aware of where I was.

A lamb in the lion's den…of sin.

I was just sitting there, surrounded by some of the most powerful men in Seattle, and I had no idea what to do with myself. Feeling very self-conscious, I left the chair, thinking I'd have another drink.

Green eyes stopped me, gathered me into his arms. "Where you goin', baby?" He squeezed me tightly from behind.

Emmett was quick to intercept, but I was faster to tell him I was okay.

Edward spun me around. "Some show you put on." Now he wore my thong around his neck.

I giggled, about to pull it away from him.

He stopped me. "It's mine, brown eyes…_I _won the prize."

"Prize," I repeated and there was nothing funnier.

Edward hummed, his eyes falling to my mouth. "Come in the other room with me." And those peepers riveted back to mine.

My lips drew a tight line, my mind blank.

"Name your price...I'll pay it. Just gimme a number, beautiful." He moved my hair to place soft kisses down my neck, and that delicious fire sprouted and spread.

"Um…" I licked my lips, my mouth dry.

When Rose sidled up to us, she stared at me real hard, trying to gauge my reaction.

I was fine.

I didn't even wanna charge this dude.

Like Calgon…I just wanted him to take me away.

A laugh made me cover my face.

"A grand," Rose told him.

Green eyes raised a brow. "Done…" He reached into his jacket and handed her an envelope. "There's thirteen hundred in there."

Rose gave him a nod before stealing me away. I was torn from him so abruptly I had to shake my head. "What's wrong?" I asked.

"You sure you wanna do this?" Rose was talking to me but staring behind me. "Because you don't have to." She shook her head once, and I guessed that was for Edward.

"I…yeah, I wanna. Yes," I whispered, feeling my cheeks heat up.

She sighed, reaching into her pocket. "No kissing on the mouth. This is business, not some drunken hookup, and he's not your boyfriend."

"I know," I said.

"We upped the ante. But if he wants more than a standard lay, he's gotta cough up more cash."

I palmed my forehead as this became very real.

"Take this." She placed a condom in my palm. "Emmett will be right outside the door."

"Okay." I stood there, feeling green eyes behind me. I felt his body heat on my back; he was that close.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Yes," I answered.

Instead of going toward the bedroom, he led me into the bathroom. Confused, I leaned back against the sink and turned to see him lock the door.

"Bedroom's occupied." He waved a hand.

Nervous, I folded my arms across my chest.

Edward dug a few things out of his pockets, and then he moved around me to chop his blow on the counter with a credit card.

His actions made me think of how…illegal all of this was, and that he likely puts people away for the same crimes every day. Edward Cullen certainly didn't measure up to the stuffy prosecutors on _Law & Order_.

He divvied up two lines, quick to offer me a rolled-up bill.

"No, thanks," I whispered.

He shrugged a shoulder before making the coke disappear. Edward pinched his nose with his thumb and forefinger, sniffling, his eyes widening. They were big already, his pupils black and dilated, and his gaze was absolutely hypnotizing.

"Come here," he whispered, sitting on the closed lid of the toilet, his arms reaching to pull me closer. "You're gorgeous…you know that?"

I didn't reply, kept my hands on his shoulders.

He rested his chin to my stomach, peeking up at me while he hugged my waist.

Edward's hair had fallen down onto his forehead, and I brushed it back. "Never done this before, huh?" he asked.

I opened my mouth to reply.

"Me neither." He palmed my cheek. "But don't ruin the illusion, baby…be my whore tonight." He shook his head and made me sit on his lap.

I placed my arm around his large shoulders, my face an inch from his.

"No, tell me." He wiggled a finger. "I really gotta know what makes a girl like you do something like this. Miss Hale and that goon were real protective, and she said some shit to me while you were, uh, occupied by the other one..."

"You're inquisitive," I noted, wondering why he cared. "And observant."

"Oh…I see everything." His hand trailed up the outside of my thigh, making my skirt rise. "Damn."

The butterflies were going nuts in my stomach, and I couldn't wait to fuck this guy. Jesus. I wanted him to ravage me since…my girly instincts told me to kiss him, and that wasn't allowed.

"Bella…?" He nuzzled his nose to my neck.

I sighed, tilting my head to the side, giving him more of my skin. His mouth set me ablaze again, and I held his head to me, weaving my fingers in his hair.

When his lips lingered on the corner of my mouth, I didn't think—

I ate his groan as our tongues tangled for the most intense kiss of my life.

Pulling away, I was breathless, but he didn't let me get too far. His hands were everywhere, and I squirmed, needing him to touch me in one spot.

This was nothing like I'd imagined.

The passion, the feelings coursing through me were unlike anything I'd experienced.

I'm not a virgin.

I've been fucked before.

But this…

He _paid_ me.

And I'm ready to _beg _for it.

"Here." I turned and his teeth sank into my neck, making me cry out. "Take—" I could barely talk, trying to hand him the condom.

He bit his lower lip, leaning away to rid me of my top.

I didn't cover myself; I wanted him to look at me. I wanted him to touch me.

Everywhere.

"Great tits." He grunted.

I gasped when his mouth met them, but his lips didn't stay there for long. He kissed a path down to my stomach while he fiddled with the zipper of my skirt, and a second later…

I was completely nude.

Stepping out of the skirt, I felt sexy for the first time in my life—still wearing the black heels.

But I didn't have a lot of time to think of much else.

Edward touched his chest to mine, his hands gliding down below my ass to lift me. He placed me on the counter near the sink, his eyes taking everything in—going from my forehead down to my feet.

I reached for his belt, and he allowed me to undo his pants. He let them fall. They pooled around his ankles; his stare was unwavering again—like he was staring right through me, and I didn't dare look away.

This was unreal, unlike anything I'd ever known, and I welcomed his kiss—fucking hungry for it, starving for any piece of himself he was willing to give me, as his attention made me feel alive inside.

Every cell in my body was on high alert, and everything Edward Cullen did felt amazing.

"Now, please—" I mumbled into his mouth.

The words had barely left mine before he fumbled to place the condom on his dick.

I watched him, noticing how long and thick he was. He wasn't unfortunate in _any_ department it seemed, and it made me wonder why he needed to pay—

His lips met mine, which ceased my internal ramblings. Then I felt him get closer and closer, the tip of his cock hit my clit, eliciting another gasp from me. I was soaked and he slid down to align us, and I held my breath.

Edward pushed forward to enter me with force. "Fuck." He paused, neither of us moving a muscle. "Breathe, baby."

I exhaled, reveling in every sensation as my body started to relax.

Edward filled me to the hilt, creating a delicious ache in my belly. His eyes never left mine and he wore a silly little smirk that made me smile. "You ready?"

I nodded, thinking I was born ready to fuck him.

Edward grabbed my ass, a growl made his chest vibrate, and his hips picked up a steady rhythm; his dick digging deeper with each thrust.

My legs wrapped around his waist, and he made me hug his shoulders.

I kissed him, palming his cheeks, wanting his tongue again.

He moaned and started bucking into me even harder, which made me yelp and cry out while also craving more. "You okay?" Edward asked.

Since I didn't trust my voice, I placed my lips to his—something I knew he enjoyed.

Edward slowed, resting his forehead to mine. "You feel real good, baby." He was breathless, his eyes scorching my soul. "Tight cunt—"

I pulled his hair to gain access to his filthy mouth that I couldn't stop kissing.

His cock became unrelenting, and I watched him get lost in me—or the moment—as his breaths washed over my face.

All too soon, a lot sooner than I'd hoped, he pushed into me roughly, shuddering and shaking within my embrace.

While I caught my breath, hoping my heart would slow, I wasn't that disappointed.

Earlier, I knew that if I got this far with anyone, I'd have to fake it.

But I didn't expect…

Being with him, I expected to orgasm, come hard around his dick.

Maybe the fact I didn't means I'm just _that_ dead inside?

"Fuck…Damn," he laughed, grasping the base of his dick to pull out. "Baby…you were a natural." He was still chuckling, backing away to discard the rubber.

I smiled, my legs feeling like jello when my feet touched the floor. Unsure of what I'd expected—again—I started to get dressed. Edward was sweet, took my panties from around his neck, and he helped me into them—placing a kiss on my hip.

His mouth left me breathless for about the tenth time this evening, but I vowed to push it out of my mind. "Thank you." He lifted my hand to kiss my knuckles. "You were…fan-fucking-tastic." Edward let go of my hand to push his hair back. "We should…you know."

I agreed without sound, zipping my skirt before turning it into place.

After I pulled my top back on, I noticed Edward had righted his pants and was going for the doorknob. He was polite and gave me a minute to cover up.

But what I didn't expect was for him to gather me into his arms again.

"Hi," I said.

He didn't reply, dipping my body back to sneak that tongue into my mouth. The vigor of his kiss was getting intense and then he let me go. "Be good, Miss Swan."

Stunned, I stopped him from leaving. "How—"

He grinned, reaching into his jacket to produce a few sheets of paper. "You signed the gag order."

I nodded. "I won't be…saying anything."

"I know." He winked, turning to leave the bathroom.

Once he was gone, I sat on the ledge of the bathtub to hold my spinning head. I must have sat there for a long time, as I'd barely noticed when someone else joined me.

I hopped up, instantly nervous, but it was only Rose. "Hey," I said.

"You all right?" she whispered.

"I'm ready to leave." I was honest.

She gave me a sympathetic pat on my shoulder. "It wasn't too bad, right?"

"No." I didn't want to admit anything. That despite not coming, he was probably the best lay I'd ever had, and that was just fucking sad.

"Tanya's packing it in…party's practically over. We can go. Em'll wait for her." She smiled down to me. "Oh, and…" She handed me an envelope. "All together, there's sixteen hundred."

"But—"

"Pay your bills, sweetie," she giggled.

I didn't see Edward, nor did I even look for him while we were on our way out.

A few of the guys had parting words, and a couple handed me their phone numbers. But I tossed them into the trash by the bar, wanting to forget this evening.

No matter the state of my apartment, I just wanted to go back to my couch—where things were depressing but made sense.

I'd barely gotten comfortable in the back seat of Emmett's SUV when Rose turned to face me. "You just fucked the mayor's son...Bella, Edward Cullen paid an _obscene_ amount of money to sleep with _you_!" She leaned over the seat to push my shoulder. "Let that sink in."

I palmed my face so she didn't see my smile.

"He asked an awful lot about you, too."

"No," I disagreed.

She shrugged. "He's got connections—would have found out anyway. He likes to do his homework," she explained. "Tanya's always worked their parties, but a new face…?" She scrunched her nose. "I told him you were my neighbor who fell on some real hard times. Well, actually—"

"What?" I asked. "What'd you tell him?"

"I was just honest, and I told him you were also a good friend of mine. Like I said, he has connections." She showed me her palms. "I might have mentioned you were an out of work music teacher—"

"How was that important?" I was mortified, and I wondered if she'd told him about my lights being out, too.

"Hey, because of me, because of what _I_ said—" she pointed to herself "—it's probably why he was so generous."

I didn't reply.

Before this evening, I had no idea what my body—my pussy—might be worth.

But now I knew.

"You won't have to duck Mr. Clearwater next time he stops by."

I rolled my eyes, thinking I'd be able to buy some real food too.

Emmett and Tanya joined us moments later, and a silence loomed in the car. We made it on to the highway. Then, Tanya turned to face me as she took off her wig. Blond locks fell to her shoulders, and now she didn't look as trashy.

"My neck hurts." She massaged the back of hers.

"Bet the mayor gave it a workout," Emmett commented and the three of them started laughing.

I remained quiet, closed my eyes to wish I was home already.

The ride was pretty short.

Emmett and Rose dropped me off at my door, and I promised to get the slut-wear back to my friend real soon.

My cell phone was about to die, but it provided enough light for me to find a hoodie and a blanket.

Dizzy and confused, I curled up on my couch in my dark apartment, and I forced myself to go to sleep. It was close to five a.m. and I had no idea where the evening had gone.

Being at the hotel felt relatively short.

The time flew by.

* * *

When I woke up, I was sweating to death and pushed the blanket away. Then I noticed the time on my cable box and my eyes darted to the kitchen—to see the digital numbers blinking on my microwave.

I hopped up, shocked I had electricity.

But when there was a knock at my door, I realized what had woken me up.

I saw Rose through the peephole and welcomed her inside.

She glanced around, a look of disdain marring her features. "Since when are you such a slob?"

I was still smiling. "I have electricity."

Her brow quirked and she shrugged. "That boy works quick."

My face fell. "Him? Did-did you tell him my lights were off?" I really didn't want to say his name.

"Maybe…" She winked at me. "So, what? He got to fuck you. He can use his name to get your power back on—make a quick call. I was able to use you to build a decent rapport with him." She nodded. "He's usually in some corner, partying by himself; meanwhile, he knows all these fucking people. It was for my benefit, too." She touched her chest.

I just nodded, grateful but embarrassed.

"But listen…it's your turn. You gotta dish about last night."

"Why?" I yawned, pulling my sweatshirt down, not wanting her to see I slept in the outfit she let me borrow.

"Because…" She shook her head. "Cullen just called me, which was very unexpected. He wants you to meet him at the bar, at the Marriott."

"Why?" Confused, I palmed my stomach, and I could almost feel_ him_.

Again, I pushed the memory away, staring at Rose expectantly.

"Another 'date,' maybe?" she asked. "I have no idea. He wants you there at six for dinner, but…Bella, I don't do _this_. I set up parties, bring dancers…and—" her mouth opened and closed; she gaped at me "—I'm not really a madam."

I sat down on my sofa again.

"There's definitely more money in it for you…obviously." Her brow furrowed. "I can ask Emmett if he'll go with you."

"I…don't think he'd hurt me, or do anything without my consent." I was honest, almost hopeful I'd get to see him again. "Um—"

Rose gasped. "Look at you…You kissed him, didn't you?"

I groaned into my hands. "No, I didn't."

"Yeah…okay." She left my couch to stare down at me. "What do I tell him?"

I shook my head. "It was a one-time thing?" Other than that, I wouldn't allow myself to think more on it. "I don't—" I looked around my apartment, reluctant to leave it once again. "I made enough last night."

Rose nodded. "I'll let him know."

She opened my door to leave, but I hopped up. "Um…Forget it." I sat back down. "No!" I jumped to stop her again. "I'll, uh, what should I wear?"

Rose laughed. "Look, he's not that loaded. Okay? His family has money, but he's an ADA." She stared at me. "Next party, I'll introduce you to some real high rollers."

"Oh." I deflated a bit. "No, thanks."

"Bella, you can't—" She held her forehead, her shoulders dropping. "I'll tell Emmett to be here by 5:30…Hurry up and shower, wear something conservative. If you don't have anything…come on by." Without another word, she left my apartment.

After taking several deep breaths, I trailed into the bathroom to take a shower.

And I was surprised that there was some pep to my step.


	7. Wrath

**_Wrath:_ **_noun \ˈrath, rȯth\ (Latin - Ira)_

1 **:** strong vengeful anger or indignation

2 **:** retributory punishment for an offense or a crime **:** divine chastisement

* * *

The girl moved in on a Sunday.

A November rain filled the deep ridges of the long, muddy drive that joined the house next to mine, splitting it into two paths about halfway down. I peered through my window, sipping my coffee, smiling as the poor asshole skidded on the loose gravel and tore up the dead grass on the edge of the lawn. With each spin of the bald tires on the decrepit old Chevy, the undercarriage of the pathetic excuse for a truck was instantly caked in mud and grit.

The rusty, red truck came to an abrupt stop near the pitiful excuse of a shack next door. The girl, looking more like a teenager than a woman, hopped out of the truck and slowly made her way around to the front of the bulbous vehicle. Hands on her hips, she tilted her head back to appraise the house with a serene smile, her dark mane tumbling down her back.

Easily tearing my eyes away, I studied the decrepit structure as well. Crimson walls, the paint peeling back and chipping away over the years. Sagging front porch, the beams rotten more than the teeth of the man who sold me this place on the adjoining property. The fireplace crumbled to one side of the house, appearing unusable. The girl turned, gazed at my house, and caught my eyes through the window. I smirked, nodding my coffee cup in her direction before taking a deep pull, and inwardly gloating at the discomfort etched on the girl's face.

_Welcome to the neighborhood._

I found myself entirely too entertained with the stranger's discomfort, to be irritated by her sudden presence. Rotten Teeth assured me that both houses had been on the market for years. My inquiry into my own, deteriorating cabin was the first and only one ever made, according to the old geezer. That was the selling factor for me: complete isolation. There were just too many distractions. But my new neighbor ... she could be a welcoming one.

Blood chilling howls tore me from my thoughts. The girl jumped, her eyes snapping from mine to the bed of the truck.

That's when I noticed the hounds.

Black and tan, with thick coats of fur, the two dogs threw back their sagging faces and howled at the cold, gray sky. Puffs of steam escaped their throats, swirling through the early-morning mist. The girl rushed to the back of the truck, and struggled with the handle on the tailgate for a moment before it fell open with a loud creak.

The two, squant dogs jumped from the back of the truck, their noses to the ground as they darted around the front yard. They tore past the house and into the woods, climbing the hills that were overgrown with dead, scraggling trees. The girl watched them disappear into the forest with a gleeful smile stretched across her face. Fresh on a scent, their howls echoed, bouncing off the foothills of the Appalachians, the sound worse than nails scratching across a fucking chalkboard.

The girl was left alone, standing on the dying grass of the front yard. She turned, meeting my eyes once more. My gaze drifted over her legs, short and curvy, topped with what looked like a flat belly and firm, round ass, though I'd seen better, been in better, too.

See?

Fucking distractions.

Turning back to the truck, she opened the passenger door and pulled out a large suitcase. Noticing a few more bags piled on top of one another in the truck, I smiled a slow, curling smile. Abandoning my mug of cooling coffee, I shrugged on my coat and eased outside.

I wouldn't be able to write anything anyway, not until I checked out those full, candy-apple red lips up close - like wrapped around my dick, for example. That long hair tangled up in my fingers as I tugged and took what I wanted.

And I always got what I wanted.

Always.

"Need some help?"

The tiny slip of a girl dropped the suitcase at the sound of my voice. Pressing her hand over her heart, she let out a nervous laugh. Skittish, dark eyes roamed my body, one small hand rubbing the back of her neck. I grinned at the way her eyes widened and blinked.

_This is gonna be too easy._

I offered my hand. "Edward Masen."

"Bella Sw … um, Platt. Bella Platt," she introduced timidly. Squeezing her small, outstretched hand, I didn't fail to notice the way she faltered and stumbled over her last name. Shooting her a warm, comforting smile, I kept her hand in mine longer than necessary, but released it before she became uncomfortable.

_So she doesn't want me to know her real name? Tough shit. She obviously doesn't know who she's dealing with … yet._

I widened my most dazzling smile, the one that I practiced in the mirror over the years. "It's nice to see another human being, besides the guy who sold me my house, that is. Although, I have to say, you're much nicer to look at than old Waylon, any day."

The fucker was inbred. It wasn't hard to be.

Bella gnawed her bottom lip and gazed up at me with unsure eyes. The burning blush spreading over her cheeks told me that she wasn't one who often received compliments.

_Subdued and quiet, this is my favorite type of girl to fuck. The quiet ones are the loudest fucking wildcats in the sack. She's not much to look at, but I can always close my eyes and picture that curvy redhead from town._

"May I?" I asked, gesturing to the suitcase resting near her feet.

Bella's eyes hesitantly darted toward the woods, where the dogs had suddenly grown silent. "I think I've got it."

"Please? I insist …" Taking it upon myself to pick up the suitcase, I jerked my head towards her house. "Shall we?"

Bella begrudgingly nodded, eyeing my hand before busying herself with a couple of smaller bags. I followed her into the shack, discreetly flipping the I.D. tag hanging from the handle of her luggage between my fingers.

_Isabella Swan … Thought you can hide the truth from me, little girl?_

A New York City address was neatly printed beside the name, momentarily catching me off guard. Narrowing my eyes, I wondered about the odds of this woman moving to the foothills of Rickety Flat from the same city as I had, but the thought was quickly discounted.

_What do you think she's up to, Masen? Spying on you while you finally write your first,_ _bestselling novel? _ _Does she look like some kind of criminal mastermind to you? A stalker? This girl probably jumps at the sight of her own shadow._

Unable to contain myself, I barked out a large belly laugh at the thought, the deep tenor increasing in intensity once I spied her jerking in fraught.

"What's … what's so funny?"

Gesturing around the room, I shook my head and easy lied concerning my thoughts. "Your decor is just as hideous as mine."

The wooden planks that made up the floor were sinking and dusty beneath our feet. A faded, floral couch rested against one wall, yellowing stuffing hanging from the stretched seams. Appliances as old as the foothills themselves, cabinets with crooked doors, or what was left of them, made up the kitchen. Some were missing, exposing shelves void of dinnerware, but full of mouse shit. The air was thick with the scent of mold, mildew, and particles of dust drifting through the stagnant air.

Bella released a wistful sigh. A happy smile settled on her face. "It's the first home I've ever owned. I love it."

_Of course,_ _she does._

Tilting my head, I gave her a gentle smile. "Then it seems congratulations are in order." Bella blushed again, the sudden rise of redness to her cheeks delicious in color.

"Well, if you need any help with anything, let me know," I offered, dropping the suitcase at her feet. Slowly running my gaze up her body, I charmed her with my grin before taking a step back towards the door. "I've been told that I'm pretty good with my hands."

Lips parted, I left her looking dumbfounded, her whispered thanks nearly drowned out by the slamming of the screen door.

* * *

It seemed like things hadn't gone my way for a while. I escaped the city for a life in the mountains to concentrate on my latest novel. My first two had somehow flopped, but I was lost to the reason why.

They were brilliant.

I blamed everything and everyone on my lack of producing a bestseller. I blamed my publisher and blood-sucking editor for taking creative control over my plot and characters. I blamed society for the mundane romance bullshit that people never seemed to get enough of, the city for taunting me with endless parties, an endless stream of beautiful women with their legs spread open wide for me, and my pestering mother's endless nagging.

_Have you taken your meds, Edward?_

_You know what the doctor said._

_Blah, blah, blah._

_Fucking, neverending_ _babble._

I couldn't get inside my characters' heads in my new novel, but it wasn't my fault. The fault lied with everyone else. The constant interruptions and the negativity of those who were supposed to support me frustrated me to no end, their thoughts and actions placing an invisible wedge between my words and me.

Things were about to change for the best, I felt it deep within my bones. Glancing over the old typewriter, through the wavering glass window, I spotted Bella standing outside playing with those stupid fucking dogs

Their howls had kept me awake all night, their woeful cries only drowned out by the earbuds of my iPod. I'd grown used to the quiet since leaving the city, something I previously felt would be impossible. I began to thrive on it - the silence, only broken by the occasional trill of crickets or the hoot of an owl. But the hounds … they howled with each chirp of the insects, and with every screech of an owl. One night and I already hated those dogs, wanting nothing more than to choke the breath out of their lungs with my own two hands.

Time slipped by as I began typing, choosing to craft my work on the old typewriter my father gave me on my twelfth birthday. The ancient Remington once belonged to him, before he passed it on to me. Cold metal and solid keys were the only things the bastard ever gave me. Not a dime of child support or a minute of his time. Just one, drunken, fatherly gesture before he staggered off a subway platform two weeks later. It was never determined if had been the fall that killed him, or the train itself, not that it mattered. The man who shared my ruddy, unkempt hair, sharp jawline, and green, penetrating eyes had been dead to me long before that day.

Smirking to myself, I finished typing and placed a new piece of stark white paper in the typewriter. Stretching my fingers, I readied myself to type once more. My fingers barely glanced over the keys when a shrill, muffled scream sounded in the distance.

_Maybe she's hurt, and_ _I can pretend to care—perfect_ _excuse to lay on the charm._

Shrugging on my coat, I stepped outside and cringed at the sound of the hounds howling into the evening air. Clutching my hands into tight fists, I stomped to Bella's house, ignoring the dogs, who ceased their cries long enough to sniff my feet.

Noticing the front windows were void of my new neighbor, I kicked at the annoying beasts, my boot landing one, hard blow to the larger one's jaw. The animal howled, but this time in pain. He and his partner trotted away, one with his tail between his legs, and the other staring at me with sad, accusatory eyes. I flipped them both the bird and climbed the steps onto the sagging porch. The rotting, wooden door flew opened before I had a chance to knock.

"Mouse," she gasped, shoving past me and pressing her small frame against my back.

I imagined the cool, mountain air teasing her nipples. Could almost feel them hardening against my tensing muscles. The quick, frightened gasps of breath rushing in and out of her lungs were almost enough to fully arouse me, and I found it difficult to hold myself back from yanking down her tight jeans and fucking her senseless on her front porch.

Fuck, I needed to get some, and in a bad way. My dick had been acting uncharacteristically eager since the girl moved in. It was getting desperate.

I didn't get desperate.

Smothering the urge, I turned and lightly placed my hands on her upper arms, rubbing them in a comforting caress. "Don't worry, Bella. I'll take care of you."

I always chose my wording carefully to play to my advantage. So well, I should have taken up the fiddle.

Bella gave a hesitant nod and cast an anxious gaze around me. Disappearing inside the house, I shut the door behind me and glanced around. The bags and suitcases I helped her unload yesterday were nowhere in sight. The house was remarkably cleaner, the wooden floors shining as best as they could, and the crooked cabinet doors since straightened.

Bypassing the kitchen entirely, I went straight for her bedroom, taking a deep breath once I entered. Candles sat along the surface of an antique dresser and chest of drawers, their flickering flames gesturing for me to stroll further into the room. The soothing scent of lavender calmed me, minutely. My fingers danced along the top of a dainty, glass bottle, halfway full of amber-colored perfume. Picking it up, I removed the top and breathed the scent in, closing my eyes and smiling. The bottle barely made a sound against the scuffed dresser once I replaced it. One drawer sat partially open, and I grasped the golden knob on the drawer, revealing its contents.

Colorful scraps of fabric rested inside, the sight of the thin, silky underwear staggering my breath. Bunching them in one hand, I brought a handful to my face and buried my nose deep inside the material, yearning for the natural scent of a woman. Anger and disappointment flooded my veins with the smell of nothing but laundered clothing. Setting my jaw, I returned the panties to the drawer and glanced around the room. A discarded pile of clothes near the head of an iron-framed, queen bed caught my attention, and I crept forward.

Digging through the clothes, I paused at the sight of a brilliant shade of red. Tiny, red thongs were tucked neatly inside the familiar jeans she'd worn the day before. I removed the panties from the pile, stood, and held them in my hand for a moment, mesmerized by the silkiness beneath my fingertips. Overcome by desire, I pressed the crotch against my nose and hummed in appreciation. My mouth flooded at the scent, the desire to taste a woman overpowering me.

The creaking of a door sped my heart, and I shoved the panties deep inside my jeans pocket. I fell to the ground, shoved the bed skirt aside, and scrunched my brow in concentration, just as Bella entered the room.

Sighing in disappointment, I stood and wiped my hands on the back of my jeans. "No sign of a mouse anywhere."

"Oh. Well, thank you for taking a look around, Edward. Maybe my screams scared him off."

I opened my mouth to agree, but mournful howls drowned out my unspoken words. The baneful noise slowly died, the sound drifting away somewhere far in the distance. I wished they were drowned out permanently, and suddenly I was struck by a brilliant idea.

"Bella, have you thought about keeping the dogs inside?"

Bella wrinkled her brow, slowly shook her head, and cast me confused frown. "No, why?"

"The mountains grow so cold at night Bella; they need someplace warmer to stay."

"They don't like being confined inside a house," Bella said, shifting on her feet and wrapping her arms snuggly around her torso. "Or inside of a pen. I'm going into town tomorrow, to buy them a heating lamp."

"Are you sure you want to do that, Bella? Heating lamps can be so dangerous. I've heard stories of houses being burned to the ground because of them."

"There's an old doghouse way out back," she replied, pursing her lips in thought. "Far enough from the house that it wouldn't be in any danger of burning down. But, thank you for your concern, Edward. It's … sweet of you to worry yourself with the well-being of my dogs and for me, a complete stranger. I can tell that you truly care about them. How a man treats an animal says a lot about his personality."

_Care about your dogs? I care about my sanity. I care about drowning out their howls behind the walls of your house. I don't give a goddamn about your dogs. I care about one thing: myself._

"Of course," I replied. I casually closed the distance between us, shoving my hands inside my pockets fingering the slick material hidden inside my jeans. I focused my attention on her bedroom door, instead of on her, or her bed. My mind painted a picture of her on that rickety, old bed, lying on her belly, spread-eagle on top of the floral comforter, her ankles and wrists bound to the wrought-iron frame.

_She'd like it, too. Being tied up, begging_ _for my cock to sate the throbbing ache between her legs._

She was what I liked to refer to as passable pussy. It would be convenient. But first, I had to gain her trust.

I paused at the bedroom doorway. "Bella, would you like to have dinner at my place Friday night?" Almost a week from now … plenty of time for her skittish-ass to agree.

"Dinner Friday?" Bella ran her fingers through her hair and drew her eyebrows together. "Maybe." Shrugging one shoulder, she licked her lips, fiddling with the hem of her sweater. "Let me think about it."

* * *

Sunday turned into Monday and Monday into Tuesday. Day by day, I made my presence known to the girl next door: chopping firewood whenever she happened to step outside, helping her with her groceries after a trip to the store. Dropping subtle hints and teasing flirts, I was sure I could charm my way into those tight little pants she always wore.

I complemented.

I praised.

I listened.

And then it happened.

By that Friday morning, I was just as jittery as the bitch next door. She hadn't mentioned dining with me, not once, and had made herself scarce all day long. There was absolutely no way she wouldn't show up that night, so I made the short trek into town and picked up the groceries I needed for the meal I planned to prepare. The rusty piece of shit she called a truck wasn't in the drive when I left for town, but had returned sometime during my absence. The slamming of my car door must have alerted Bella of my return, because once I turned around there she stood, awkwardly shifting from one foot to another.

Her gaze drifted from my face to the solitary, brown grocery bag I held in my arms. "Need some help?"

"Nah, I think I can handle this one bag." I shot her a one-sided grin, my brain screaming at me to lure her inside my house.

_Be patient. You don't want her to think you're fucking desperate._

My own thoughts betrayed me again. Desperate? Me? I almost snorted, the sound catching in my throat. Covering it with a cough, I took a step to one side towards the house.

Sometimes bitches needed a little push.

Frowning, I glanced down at the bag brimming with groceries. "Guess I'll be dining alone tonight. Again."

Crafty. I was fucking crafty. Halfway across the dead, front lawn is where she stopped me, clutching the arm of my coat and giving it a timid tug. Skin pale, eyes wide, she was as frightened as a …

"Edward, there's something missing from my house."

The sentence came out in a rush, bringing crimson to her already pink cheeks. Puffs of breath formed around her lips, the white mist disappearing into the winter air.

"Missing?" I asked.

"Yes, missing. And the only visitor I've had inside my house, besides _you_, is a mouse."

Oh, things were turning interesting. The giddiness surpassed any other emotions I felt in that moment. Bella, scared little Bella, was calling me out.

Her newfound bravery humored and enraptured me, but I repressed the urge to gloat.

"Well, what's missing, Bella?"

Bella kept her eyes trained on the ground. The puffy, pink coat she wore gave her body a fullness she otherwise lacked. If only her breasts were as full and large as they appeared to be in that winter coat. She muttered incoherently under her breath. Amused, I asked her to repeat herself.

"My pant- My panties are missing," she blanched. "Why would a mouse scurry away with my panties?"

_She knew, and yet there she stood, confronting me._

_She was intrigued._

_Interesting ..._

"Hmm …" Pursing my lips, I feigned thoughtfulness. "There are a few reasons that come to mind."

Taking a step forward, drawing closer to her, I expected her to back away, but she didn't.

"Desire," I crooned. "The insatiable need to be near anything that has touched you."

"That's crazy, Edward," she diverged, standing her ground. The darkness spreading in her eyes betrayed her words. She shivered as I leaned in and whispered in her ear.

"There's nothing '_crazy'_ about wanting to touch you, Bella. Maybe this _mouse_ craves beautiful things and you ..." Pulling back, I looked right into those big, gullible eyes. "You just so happen to be one of them."

Lying was a necessary factor in my life, something I used when I needed to get what I wanted. She was plain, at best, but my bed had grown cold, and my dick was desperate for something tight, warm, and wet.

Bella silently studied me, her bottom lip working its way between her teeth when I began to back away. The distance between us didn't diminish my senses, which were fucking spot-on. I heard every quick, ragged breath escaping through her parted lips. The smell of her arousal must have been thick in the air, so potent even the dogs could smell it, their howls blowing in from the hills on the chilled, evening breeze. The desire on her face was delectable, and without a single nip, I could practically taste it on my tongue.

Playing with the zipper on her coat, Bella dropped her gaze, and avoided my eyes. "Don't patronize me, Edward. I know I'm not beautiful."

Closing the short distance between us again, I did well to hide my growing annoyance, adjusting the grocery bag in my arms, and reaching out to place one finger under her chin. Tilting it toward the sun, I pretended to study her unremarkable face.

"Oh, but you are, Bella. You are beautiful, beautiful to me." I tapped the underside of her chin. "Dinner's at eight," I reminded, turning away with a final warning over my shoulder. "Don't be late."

* * *

The tick of the clock hanging above my mantle was quiet, at first. Each passing second the sound grew and grew, the clock swelling in my peripheral vision. Evening would soon turn into night and Bella still hadn't arrived. Convinced that her absence wasn't of her own, free will, I left the steak and potatoes warming in the oven, and headed next door.

The fucking dogs were howling, but the sound was in the distance. Ecstatic that they were no longer underfoot, I bounced up the steps and onto the porch, confused by the darkened windows. Fist clenched, ready to knock, I paused after noticing a flicker of light through the thin curtains of the living room window. A soft moan followed, the sound an invisible wire pulling me toward the cracked glass. Finding a slight part between the curtains, I peered inside.

Legs bent at the knees, thighs parted, Bella lay on her back, her small body sinking into the worn cushions of the couch. The glare of the television settled over her bare legs, the flickering screen bathing her thighs in a dim, white light. The rise and fall of her hips was in steady succession to the stroke of her fingers, which were buried under her panties. I barely breathed. The air was seized from inside my chest. My eyes flickered to the television, the scene playing out on screen sending my heart racing.

Ankles and wrists bound by a thin rope, a woman lay on her belly, moaning and squirming on the bunched, white sheets of a bed. A man towered over her, his face cut out of the frame of the video. All that was seen of him were his legs, the swelling in his pants, and his hands, which occasionally checked the binding of the woman's limbs.

The woman's ass and hairless pussy were on full display, and the man took advantage of it, softly stroking her inner thighs before working his way upward. She pushed into him, her wetness coating his fingers. He was gentle at first, stroking her clit before pushing two fingers deep inside her pussy.

The woman moaned, the sound muffled under a scrap of fabric covering her mouth, and tied behind her head. The man removed his fingers, used them to spread the wetness further back, and sunk his thumb deep inside her ass. He was slow and diligent with each thrust. Returning two fingers inside her pussy, he worked both tight entrances together in perfect, alternating rhythm.

When the woman came, Bella came, her strangled scream muffled by her one, free hand. The other remained under the wet fabric of her panties, staying there long after her hips ceased their movement and my pulse was no longer frenzied.

_What do ya know … Bella Swan is a kinky little slut._

If I didn't know better, I would have sworn she was dead, laying on the couch with her hand in her panties and her eyes closed. Exhausted, I imagined. She was only pulled from her orgasm-induced slumber once I tapped loudly against the cracked glass.

Bella jerked at the sound of my knuckles rapping against the window. Letting out a startled gasp, she attempted to stand, lost her balance, and slammed against the wooden floor. She glanced up at the window from where she landed on her hands and knees, giving me a perfect view of her small tits through the stretched neck of her shirt.

Bella's mouth dropped open as I motioned for her to open the door. Scrambling to her feet, she nearly fell again, her legs caught up in the throw she desperately tried to hide beneath her nearly bare, lower body. Blood pooled in my mouth, caused by the biting on the inside of my cheeks. The smirk I fought to conceal refused to stay hidden, so I allowed it to spread over my face.

Wild eyes and disheveled hair greeted me after a handful of minutes. Jeans replaced the throw. The denim covered her naked legs, the wrinkled material constantly being smoothed under her jittery hands.

"So, I see you've found something better to do with your time than having dinner with me."

"Oh, God, Edward, I didn't even notice the time. I'm … I'm just mortified. I don't … I don't even know what to say."

I could barely concentrate on her embarrassment. Not when I could see her sex still fresh on her fingers.

"Don't be embarrassed, sweet girl. Why don't you come over? I'll heat up some grub and we can … talk. We have more in common than I think you realize."

* * *

Chatting over a meal of steak, salad, and baked potatoes, I learned all about Bella Swan.

Born in Washington State, she spent the first few years of her life raised by a single mother who fled Seattle after divorcing Bella's father. Bella was sent back to live with her father at the ripe age of ten, after her mother overdosed on prescription narcotics. An only child, and admittedly withdrawn, Bella never grew close to her father. I listened as she quietly confessed that she often compared herself to wallpaper: always there, fading into the background, and rarely noticed. Her only friends were those fucking, annoying-as-hell dogs, which whom she adopted from an animal shelter.

I stoked the fire in the fireplace while she continued to talk. With my back to her, I was free to roll my eyes, tired of the talk and ready for some action, the kinky tie-me-up-with-a-rope kind of action. Hoping the fire added ambiance, I suggested we move to the couch to continue our conversation.

The hours slipped away as she droned on and on. I nodded occasionally, tucking all the information away in the back of my mind, but completely intolerant of her need to speak only of herself.

_What about me?_

"I've never met a man like you, who hangs on my every word, and is genuinely interested in what I have to say."

"Who wouldn't be interested in you?" I peppered. "You're sweet, beautiful, compassionate … kinky." That made her laugh, the tinkling of her giggle brightening the twinkle in those muddy, brown eyes. Or maybe that was the wine. Either way, I laid it on thick as the drink thinned her defenses. "Finding you watching that video … Bella, is that something you're interested in? Bondage?"

The wine wasn't the only thing that reddened her cheeks. My words spread the blush, the delectable color creeping across her neck and over the soft, roundness of her cleavage.

"Edward, you must think I'm some kind of freak."

"Never."

_I think you're boring, at best._

I grasped her hand, the same one she had buried inside her pussy earlier that night, and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "Remember what I said? We have more in common than you think. Bondage has always been something I've been interested in. I've just never found a relationship worthy of such a thing. Trust. There has to be trust between people before they can even attempt such a thing. Please, don't be ashamed. I'm relieved to find someone … someone like me."

Bella said nothing for a long moment, possibly mulling over my words, entranced by the faux sheepishness in my voice. Fuck, if writing didn't pan out, I could always become an actor. The air was filled with the crack and pop of the fire. The shame faded from her eyes the longer she stared into the fire, until finally glancing at me.

"Edward, I have a confession to make," she said after she'd settled. The words were a mere whisper, almost drowned out by the crackling of the fireplace nearby. "My last name isn't Platt. It's Swan," she revealed, taking another long pull from her glass. "There was a man once. A man that claimed to love me, but didn't. The only thing he loved was hurting me, mentally and physically." Restless once again, she leaned in closer. "I've been hiding from him," she explained in a hushed hurry. "And, no matter where I go, I'm always looking over my shoulder, afraid he's going to find me. Always."

Tears welled in her unsettled eyes, and I fought the urge to roll mine.

_Such dramatics with this one._

_I wonder if it's too soon to ask if I can use the gag? _

I silently thanked the poor asshole who came before me for making things so much easier. With a patient smile, I leaned forward to soothe her. Worry and unease clouded her face, but was drowned out by the trustworthy gaze I relished upon her.

"I'll protect you. I'll always protect you," I insincerely swore, stepping it up a notch. Eyes fluttering until they closed, she wet her lips and leaned forward as well, but jumped away at the last moment as a thunderous, baying sound seeped through the wooden boards of my decrepit house. I gritted my teeth and clenched my fists. Heat crept up my body, winding its way around my neck and clutching my throat in a vice.

_Goddamn dogs!_

_Those,_ _goddamn howling dogs._

* * *

The next night was much the same, except for the surprise bondage.

_Bummer._

Wearing my best, I knocked patiently on Bella's door while the hellhounds howled from the foothills. I waited on the porch while she occasionally yelled from the other side of the door that she was _coming_, though she was taking her own sweet time doing it. I was tempted to yell back, asking if she was sure, and that if she needed any help I would always be there to assist. But I refrained, certain that she would lock the door then throw away the key and never come out again. And that just wouldn't do.

What seemed like hours later, she wrenched open the door, and I graced her with a smile, motioning her out and down the steps in front of me. I admired how the hem of her sweater sat high on her hips, giving me a nice, full view of her only asset.

"Full moon tonight," I commented, causing her to squint up into the blackened, night sky.

"No, it's not," she countered, staring straight through the bony fingers of the abundantly, bared trees, her squint landing on the glowing curve of the crescent before she turned it on me.

I shrugged. "So it isn't."

Snickering to myself, I placed my hand just above the ripe apples of her ass to lead her up the stairs and into my lair. Tonight was the night. She was going to give it up.

Like it or not.

Playing the perfect host, I turned on the charm, filling her belly before feigning interest in her small mind.

I nodded.

I hummed.

I acted as if I was listening … _patiently._

The longer she talked, the closer I got. A caress to her fingers. A light squeeze to her thigh. Brushing her hair over her shoulder, I thumbed her collarbone, leaning in to run my lips along her jawline. My hand crept up into the crease of her thigh, and I licked the back of her earlobe, pulling it into my mouth to skim the sensitive flesh with my teeth.

Her gasp pulled my attention to her mouth. I looked at it, pink and parted, going in for the kill when that glistening tongue poked out to wet her bottom lip. I caught her tongue with mine, pushing both into her mouth as I grazed over the center seam of her jeans. I placed just enough pressure over her pussy to push another gasp from her lungs before the barks of those fucking dogs came knocking at my front door.

_Fuck!_

Every night thereafter was the same; she came - not that way, unfortunately - we would eat, and then fool around before she left, preaching the word of holistic hound care.

"_They're all I have, Edward,"_ I mimicked spitefully in my head.

She was always so worried about those stupid wolves, the ones that no doubt wanted nothing to do with the noisy, little shits. I had a mind to tell her as much in the hope that I was wrong and that they'd viciously rip out the mutts' throats.

The worst part was I wasn't getting any sleep, which meant I wasn't getting any writing done. Midafternoon was the only quiet moment I had, and I mostly spent it sitting at my desk, blinking blankly at my typewriter keys.

I was blocked, both in thought and in cock. It would have been funny if it were happening to anybody else. As cliché as it sounded, I was on the verge of stereotypically turning to the bottle in order to get some shuteye.

Come Friday, I was out of sorts. Too tired to prepare a decent meal, I served her microwavable lasagna, foregoing the garlic bread. The broken duet of dogs howling into the night was the backdrop to our evening.

Could you imagine?

"Ignore them," I suggested, pushing back the hair from her shoulder to lean in and kiss her neck. I smiled into the crook when she shivered, scooting closer to lick at the little dip. Putty in my hands, I took it upon myself to place her hand over my bulge, encouraging her to rub it with the force of my own.

The bitch had a lot of making up to do for leaving me hanging all week and, I was gonna see that she did it.

"You feel that?" I asked, pressing her palm harder into me, smirking against her jaw when I felt her nod. She gasped at the boldness of my action, but didn't back away. No, the bitch liked it.

"You do that to me. That's all yours. Ever since you moved in, every last inch."

Grabbing her by the back of the neck, I forced her to look at me, a surge of satisfaction shooting into my veins when she whimpered, showing me the clear sign of fear shining in her eyes.

_Oh, that's good. I like it when they're scared._

Loosening my grip, I splayed my hand out on the back of her head, pulling her lips against mine. Eyes wide opened, they met the state of my mouth, probing and pleading, wanting hers elsewhere. Tightening my grip, I tugged her back, making sure that helping hand of hers kept up with its task.

"I want you to suck it," I asserted, leaning forward to kiss her again. I spoke my request against her lips.

"Can you do that for me? Can you suck my cock?" I asked, licking along her quivering, bottom lip. "Swallow every, last drop?"

Even on the verge of getting my dick licked, I was dropping solid verses. Fuck, I was awesome. A natural born poet.

Silently, she pulled that lip between her teeth and I took it as a yes, tightening my grip on her hair and slipping my free hand under her knee, easily pivoting her small frame to straddle my thigh. My fingers dug into her hip in encouragement, and I helped her to slide down my leg, the heat of her wet pussy burning me the whole way.

"Be a good girl and I'll make her sing," I promised, bouncing her on my shin before pulling her off and placing her between my knees, thinking she looked even more appealing on hers.

"Undo my pants," I ordered, lazily smiling while she fumbled with the button, flawlessly lowering the zipper. "Now, take out my cock."

Slowly and with trembling fingers, she pulled the waist of my briefs back, barely catching the head on the elastic band. I lifted my hips so she could maneuver them down my thighs and over my knees, letting them pool at my feet.

"You know what to do with that, little girl?" I teased. "Or do I have to tell you how to suck it, too?"

Fire flourished behind those brown eyes, spreading like wild into the apples of her cheeks. I wanted to bite them when I came, cry out in pleasure as I made her scream in pain.

"Put your mouth on it, Bella," I instructed, giving her hair a firm tug before forcing her head forward. "Put that cock in your pretty, little mouth and suck it dry."

As soon as the tip of her wet tongue licked the leaky head of my cock, a slew of baneful howls bounced off the walls, each following closely, one right after the other. Predictably, she attempted to pull away again, but I held her steady, forcing the whole head of my cock into her open, opposing mouth. I shivered as she mumbled around it, scraping the top with her teeth before clamping them down on me.

"Shit!" I cursed, letting go and pushing her away. Losing her balance, she fell back on her ass.

"Serves you right." I laughed, on the verge of hysteria from lack of sleep and pussy. "What the fuck was that?"

Standing, I pulled on my pants, not bothering to help her up off the floor. Wasn't as if I was getting anything out of it, other than a nice set of blue balls.

Fuck that.

Bella's body grew rigid as I paced back and forth, each strike of my boot against the splintering, wooden boards bringing me closer to the edge, and I was already tittering on the brink of madness as it was. One more fucking howl ...

"You know, I've been nothing but kind, considerate, and fucking complacent with you," I growled. "All I asked is for you to put those dogs away, just for one fucking night, just for part of the goddamn day, but did you listen to the one suggestion I gave you? No."

Bella's mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. Just as well, I had more to say.

"Night and day, day and night. Barking, howling and whining. I can't sleep, I can't eat, I can't think."

But most importantly I couldn't _write._

"Edward, I-"

"Tell me, Bella, what the fuck do you do when you're knuckle deep in that pussy of yours and those fucking dogs start to howl? Huh?"

Coming to stand at her feet, I stared down on her gaping mouth menacingly, breaking character with a smile while she scooted further away from me.

I stepped forward.

"Do you pull them out of your cunt?" I asked in all seriousness. "Bypass washing your hands before running out to baby the little shits?"

I took another step closer as she scurried further back, her head lightly banging against the wall. The sudden jolt knocked a gasp out of her. My heart raced as her chest heaved. Barely keeping from sneering, I squatted down to her level.

"Is that what you do, Bella? Do you let them lick those fingers clean?"

Reaching out to tuck a hair behind her ear, I smirked as she recoiled, taking in the shape her profile before standing again. I scrubbed my hands over my face to hide the hard roll of my eyes, offering her my hand with a defeated sigh.

"Fuck. Look, I'm sorry, okay?" I stressed, reinforcing the offer with a quick flick of my fingers. I managed an apologetic smile to lure her hand into mine, easily helping her to her feet. I ignored how she tensed as I pulled her flush.

"I've just been under a lot of stress lately … haven't been sleeping," I hedged.

_Because of your fucking dogs._

"Forgive me?"

Hesitantly she nodded against my chest, pulling away all too soon, and refusing to look me in the eye. If I didn't know any better, I would have ventured that she was simply placating me in an attempt to escape unscathed.

But I _did_ know better.

I always knew better.

I knew everything.

Shoving my hands in my pockets, I allowed her reprieve, briefly meeting her eyes before she turned towards the door, understandably fighting the urge not to leave.

I bit back a triumphant smile.

She was a woman, after all. And all women were the same - nurturing and caring, hard up for acceptance from anything and everything that claimed to need them - stupid. From the astute observation of her hesitant demeanor, I wagered that she would be back, begging for my cock and for me to forgive her.

I'd give it two, maybe three days tops.

* * *

The days dragged by, and still Bella hadn't come knocking on my door, not once, to apologize for her selfishness, for her loud-as-fuck dogs, or for abandoning me in the middle of a date.

As I suspected they would, the dogs remained outside. The rise and fall of the winter sun didn't deter them from their howls. If anything, the sound increased in frequency and duration, the only reminder that I wasn't the only one living on that damn hillside.

Mornings were the worst.

Steam siphoned from the rim of the mug, briefly warming my skin before leaving it damp and cool once again. Cold always won out in the end, it creeped in with the dead of the night, to burrow deep within my bones. It feasted on the marrow, lapping up the remains of tasty, molten copper, leaving me stiff and hollowed. I was sick of the fucking cold, growing tired of every inch of my body aching. - just as it liked me to. I could feel it ghosting through the cracks beneath my feet, the old, wooden boards creaking in time with each barefooted step.

It rejoiced in suffering.

Thrived on pain.

Much like my main character, who was a goddamn work of art if you asked me. So precise and cunning in his killings you'd think _I'd_ been the one to do his dirty deeds for him.

Setting the piping-hot cup of necessity down on the windowsill, I left it to fog and defrost a small portion of the glass. I briefly peeked out the widening gap at the neighboring cabin before turning and crouching low to tend to the dwindling fire.

Four days.

It had been four days, and she hadn't been back.

Much like that bitch next door, fire wasn't a good lover either, taking its pleasure with several nips at my skin. I didn't even feel them anymore. My fingertips hardened with the ireful kisses of a vindictive love. I was numb, dead and rotting from the inside out; hollow as that old, wallowing tree out back.

I more needed sleep, never enough sleep.

Smirking at nothing in particular, I sniffed a laugh, amused with the idea that fire could be so much more frigid than the mounds of snow piling up outside.

_Bella._

_Beautiful._

I scoffed.

More like an acceptable replacement for an electric blanket ... if that.

Four.

Fucking.

Days.

Heat was sparse up here in the throes of the season. It kept to itself mostly, curling up selfishly at the foot of the famished fireplace - tempting and teasing, peeking up at me with one eye open.

_Just like Bella._

The flames licked at the splintered logs, each flickering spark dancing along the surface of the wood. The action drew me in closer to the crumbling fireplace, and for a moment the flames were living, breathing things, luring me in with each, exotic movement among the glowing embers. The fire pleaded and begged, its claw-like hands reaching out towards me, while each log slowly collapsed into a gray pile of smoldering ash.

_Touch me, just once. I dare you._

Tempted, I grabbed a couple of logs from their cast-iron resting place, and fed fuel to the flame, watching as it grew, its rapacious mouth engulfing the barren bark in one, yawning gulp.

I felt an overwhelming urge to touch myself, jerk my stiff dick to completion and douse both infernos that had quickly risen.

"There," I humored the flourishing flames instead. "At least somebody appreciates my morning wood."

Looking back out the window at the cabin, I rose with a grunt. Stretching my aching back, I yawned, absently scratching an itch on my side before sipping from the now lukewarm cup of joe. Slightly less unsatisfied, I rubbed the center of my stomach where the pooling liquid sat, quickly spreading, and mixing with the blood pumping through my veins. Unlike her, it warmed me from the inside out.

_Fucking tease._

Setting the mug down on the aged, wooden desk, I took a seat, ceremoniously cracking my knuckles before placing my fingers on the keys. The first strike resounded off the barren walls with a mocking echo. I rolled my eyes and stretched my neck, annoyed that I didn't pack my less obnoxious computer, adamant that the monster I had conjured had no use for such modern things.

He was basic; no frill, no extra, just him, his knife and those pesky, everyday necessities - like coming.

He was above. My creation, my muse - me incarnate, if I ever were to become a crazed, sadistic killer.

And who was to say I wouldn't?

I smiled to myself, remembering how I had acted pretty crazy that night, spectacularly scaring the shit out of the girl, and pleasantly surprised to find that I liked it.

My depravity knew no bounds.

The second strike of the keys wasn't nearly as vexing as the first and soon enough I wouldn't even hear them at all, my innovative mind transpiring time and place. It was easy getting lost in my made-up worlds. Getting caught up in crime, power, greed, and sex, I almost wished I lived in them.

Almost did.

Almost.

Truth be told, there was no one I'd rather be than me, even on my worst day. Nowhere I'd rather be than right here in this chair, typing out the twisted tale that would no doubt win me, not only national praise, but the next Pulitzer Prize. Besides, Bella would fit nicely down there under the desk, snuggled between my legs, her beauty only improved upon while my dick was being shoved down her throat.

"_Choke on it,"_ I spat out, the pads of my fingers pounding roughly on the keys.

Ever since moving in next door, Bella had been the star of all my characters most abhorrent fantasies. He was a real letch, this one, more than once testing the breath-holding abilities of his victims.

'_Holding her down, I ground the tip of her nose into my pubes, praising her as she gagged and swallowed, sucking me further down by the ridges in her throat. She'd get me off this deep, my obedient, brown-eyed girl. She would, or she'd die trying.'_

The thought of Bella asphyxiating while eating my cock caused a stir in my sweats. It had been too long since I'd come, four days since the bitch worked me up then left me hanging. I refused to stoop as low as stroking my own cock, briefly considering taking the short trek to that sleepy, little town at the bottom of the hill, certain I could find _someone _to take care of my ... predicament.

I hated to admit it, but I was desperate; desperate for something warm and wet. It was all I could think about, having an open mouth wrapped all the way around me. Man or woman; I didn't care. If it wasn't going to be Bella, then it didn't fucking matter. A mouth was a mouth; they all felt the same.

I would know.

I may have been above many things, but getting my dick sucked wasn't one of them.

Scrubbing my hands over my face, I stretched my fingers and got back to work ignoring the tent I'd pitched. This prizewinner wasn't going to write itself, and I was quickly running out of time. My publisher was doing a fucking fantastic job of reminding me of that, shooting me those thoughtful, daily texts.

_Ding!_

Eyeing my cell, I fought the urge to chuck it out the front door before turning back and placing my fingers on the keys.

They were still warm, fresh with the heat of a building orgasm - the lucky bastard. He was about to blow.

That right there; that was where my characters and I differed. I _wrote_ about them sating their vices, while they actually _got _to sate them. It wasn't fair.

'_Bucking up into her, I caught her head on the edge of the desk, not caring the least bit if I'd knocked her unconscious. A mouth was a mouth,_ he thought, and I smirked. _With no gag reflex,_ _she could take me even deeper._

_Tingles transpired from my toes._

I wiggled mine.

'_A warm rush running up the inside of my thighs,_ _to lightly lick at the underside of my balls.'_

My dick twitched with the thought of anyone licking my sack, and I palmed myself over my sweats, attempting to rub out the ache. Pinching my brow in frustration, I let my head fall back, slowly sliding my palm up my length. I imagined it was someone else's hand sensually spanning my lower abdomen - which felt incredibly tight, by the way - their fingers toying with the waist of my sweats before dipping under the elastic. I automatically bucked into my waiting hand, possibly the most turned on I'd ever been.

Maybe there was something to this touching yourself after all.

I mean, it _was_ me.

Wrapping my dick in a vice grip, I pumped it once, twice, already on the verge of jizzing in my Jockeys when another, baleful howl stifled my rhythm.

"What the actual fuck!"

Releasing my already-limp dick, I shoved the chair back, knocking it over as I stood.

_Those fucking dogs!_

_Those goddamn, fucking dogs!_

Stomping over to the fireplace, I wrenched the poker out of its stand, staring at the tip and thinking how easy it would be …

Winding back, I bludgeoned the faded brick instead, whipping and wailing, repeatedly beating the sanguine cinder into submission.

Soon out of breath, I threw down the siphoning iron, clenching and unclenching my fist to work the numbness out of my hand. My roar matched their barks as I stalked by the window, flipping it off before making my way down the back hall to my bedroom.

I needed to get off, get moving … just get away from those fucking dogs before I totally flipped the fuck out.

_Fuck Bella and fuck those dogs. Fuck them! I'll find some bitch to get me off before the end of the night._

Stripping off my sweats, I stepped in front of the full-length body mirror, admiring the one that I saw in it. Skimming the angular square of my jaw, I moved down my neck, palming my pecs before plucking my nipples.

_She turned _me _down?_

Shaking my head, my hand coasted over the hills and valleys of six, prime-cut, abs. I flexed under my touch, my eyes appreciating a well-endowed package before scanning my more than adequate leg muscle.

_She chose to go and jill-off in front of a couple of cock-blocking dogs when she could have had all this?_

She was lucky I gave her the chance, fucking dense for not taking it, too. 'Cause that was it; that was the last straw. Nobody said no to me and got away with it.

No one.

Clenching and unclenching my fists, I admired how every well-worked muscle in my body jumped before turning an about-face and stalking to my dresser drawer.

_Maybe she gets off on it, coming for a furry audience. If that's what she needs,_ _I can give it to her. Easy._

Yanking out a fitted, black, v-neck sweater, I strained my neck to check out my backside, just as happy with it as I was with my front.

I decided to go with my Luckys even though I didn't need them. It wasn't about luck. It was about me.

Spreading out my outfit, I went for my Axe, popping off the top and applying an acceptable amount - all within the view of the full-length mirror. I liked to watch myself get ready. It got me excited enough to go out and actually pretend to care about anyone other than me.

Picking up my pants from the bed, I pulled them over each leg, flawlessly closing the zipper before buckling it in place.

_Perfect_ _fit._

That dinner with Bella had been torturous. Not only did I not give a shit about who she was, or where she came from, I didn't once get to talk about me. Not once did she ask about my life.

"Typical woman," I muttered under the collar of my sweater, tugging it down before leaning into the mirror and needlessly tousling my hair. It knew its place and always fell in line.

Fucking perfection.

I could've kissed my reflection.

Goddamn, I was good.

Stalking back out to the front room, I eyed my jacket teetering on the idea of not taking it. I didn't like covering up more than I had to, wouldn't have to worry so much about unwanted wrinkles. However, if the rental broke down, I'd be needing it. Even _I _knew I wasn't immortal ... though I was pretty sure I was meant to be. My next book would see to that.

Begrudgingly, I lifted the jacket off the hook, fishing the keys out of the pocket before throwing it over my shoulder.

Locking up behind me, I cursed the mounds of snow all the way to the truck. Night had fallen quickly while I worked. The fucking door was frozen shut, but nothing my strength couldn't handle. Two tugs and it came flying open, the same time as my nosy neighbors.

Climbing into the cab, I slammed the door shut, starting it up and revving the engine just as she rounded the front. She shot me with a glare, and I flashed her my best smirk.

It was freakishly cold out, and I enjoyed the way she squirmed when the wind blew. Her obvious discomfort eased me. I feigned interest in what she was saying while I watched her mouth move, letting her finish before cupping my ear in an asshole move to pretend I didn't hear her. My smile grew when she squished her lips together, motioning for me to lower the window. Nodding in sudden understanding, I pushed the down arrow.

"What do I owe the pleasure, Bella?" I asked as the window lowered. "Is it my birthday?"

Blowing into her clasped hands, she squinted over them.

"I don't know. Is it?"

Considering the question, I scanned over her chapped features.

"It is." _It wasn't_.

"Oh. Well ... happy birthday."

"Thank you."

Nodding, I waited for her to ask me how old I was - 31. Why I wasn't spending the day with friends and family - didn't have any. None worth spending time with anyway. They were always asking the wrong questions, saying the wrong things. But Bella, Bella didn't ask anything. Bella didn't _say_ anything, not unless she was blabbing on and on about her sad fucking past and those mangy-ass dogs. Bella was getting on my last fucking nerve, the mousy, little thing.

"Was there something you wanted? I'm kind of in a hurry here," I pressed, facing forward to run my hand along the bottom of the steering wheel.

_I need to get laid, find somebody who's willing. Is that you, little girl? It is my birthday, after all. Have you come to bring me a gift?_

I internally snored while she went on and on about her car troubles, and how she was running short on supplies, which was funny seeing as though I'd been the one feeding her damn near every night.

Fucking, selfish tease.

I had never been more elated than when she actually asked a question about me.

"So, where are you going?"

"Town."

"Oh, really?

_Yes, fucking really._

"Really."

Needlessly fiddling with the knobs on the dash, I acted disinterested in anything she had to say. What little lay between her ears and that elusive space between her legs remained an anomaly to me. It was the only other angle I had to play.

"Well, what are you doing when you get to town?" she pried, curling her reddened fingers over the frame of the door, her voice lowering - what leaned towards - a seductive octave or two. Scratching my brow, I blew out a low chuckle.

"Hopefully, the curvy redhead that works at the bar," I baited. Feeling a touch frisky, I fed fire to the flame. "Things around here have grown a little boring." My eyes lapped a line over her hair, careful to avoid her eyes. I glanced at her chest before facing forward, and shrugged. "She looked like a lot of fun."

_Probably doesn't have any dogs._

My insides warmed with the waves of jealousy that rolled off of her. So strong that they crashed into my side, and I almost swayed. She had no self-esteem; she'd already told me as much. It was easy knocking her down, almost too easy to be fun. But I was still having fun, hauling off and smacking her hard with the truth.

She was plain, replaceable; I wasn't voicing anything she didn't already know.

"You're welcome to tag along, though, if you don't mind sharing the cab."

Surprise didn't even cover it when she pushed off my door, rounded the front and hopped in beside me. But I hid it well, rolling up my window before shifting into gear.

This was what I wanted.

_Like fucking putty._

The ride to town was quiet, save for the thoughts running through my head. Most of which were concerning my plot. The publisher had gotten my snapshots, written back and actually had the gall to tell me that it was predictable, oversexed, and poorly executed.

He also said that he knew I could do better. I think his exact words were "_better do better if you ever want this shit storm to run."_

Entitled asshole; he could blow it out his.

I needed tonight to go right. I needed things to start going my way. It was just the way it had to be.

I always got what I wanted.

_Always._

Imagine my delight when we walked into the place, only to be seated by a curvy redhead, another standing just behind the bar.

"You might have to hitch a ride back, after all," I teased Bella playfully as we each took a seat on either side of the booth. Sliding in, I watched in amusement while she struggled to strip herself of her puffy coat. "Only three of us can fit comfortably in the cab."

Finally freeing her arms, she sat the jacket aside with a dejected look on her face, her gaze jumping between the waitress and the barmaid. Now was the time to reel it in and lay it on thick. The night was too young, and I was growing weary of this shit.

"You know they don't hold a candle to you, right?" I told her, leaning in to grab her by the wrist. Pulling it in, I thumbed her thrumming pulse point. "Those girls," I jerked my head casually in their direction, "they're merely replacements for the real thing," I paused. "I'd much rather go back home with you." Peeking up at her from under my lashes, I released her wrist to lean back against the ripped pleather, holding her brown eyes in the palm of my hand as Curvy took our orders.

The longer I stared, the deeper dahlia her cheeks ran, the more she thumbed the condensation collecting on her glass. I found the nervousness seeping from her pores sexier than any eye fucking Ol' Red had thrown my way.

I wanted to tie up need, not indulgence.

But I would take either.

"Why did you come with me, Bella?" I asked, strategically breaking eye contact in dismissal of her response. Otherwise occupied, I took a drink from my tumbler, casually tapping my fingers on the table as I watched the redhead walk by. I set my sights on the sway of her hips, the curve of her ass as she bent forward to serve a tray of drinks.

As far as chivalry was concerned, I was over it. I was done sugarcoating my intentions. My balls were in her court, so to speak. And I wanted her to work for it. I wanted to hear her say it. I wanted to see her suffer.

I deserved that much.

Catching Red's attention, I shot her my signature, crooked grin as she walked past, taking my ogling eyes with her. Really pushing it, I strained my neck until she finally disappeared behind the bar and I was free to turn back towards my perturbed date.

Shrugging off her accusatory brow, I brought the edge of my drink to my curved lips.

_What?_

_It only makes sense to keep my options open._

"Did you think I was bluffing?" I asked. "That I wouldn't dare pick up another woman with you in tow?"

Squirming under my scrutiny, Bella dropped her gaze to her lap. I imagined she was fiddling with the hem of her shirt, or her fingers, or some shit.

"Don't get me wrong, love; I want to take you home, I do. But I'm not so sure you want me to or that you even want _me_."

With my show of vulnerability, Bella peeked up from her lap. Licking those lips, she gaped, looking at me as if she wanted to argue.

"And that's fine, whatever. I'd have no trouble taking those two home," I assured her with a nod towards the bar. "All I've gotta do is close my eyes," I flattered her, glancing up and down what I could see of her small frame. "Picture you instead."

The flames of a stoked fire flourished from cheeks to chest. Her parted mouth glistening under the spit from her tongue. The way she wet her lower lip had me lulling. My third drink had hit me hard, and I shook my head, sucking in an uncharacteristically shaky breath when her socked foot pressed into my limp cock. Sniffing, I swiped my nose, clearing my throat as I adjusted in my seat. Her foot followed my every little movement, her toes toying with the underside of my balls when I lifted my hips.

Different scenarios played through my head: her stripping off her socks to give me an awkward foot job, her sliding under the table to suck me off.

Bucking up as she pressed down, I imagined her soft mouth around me.

Instead of kicking us out, the redhead would smile as she got down on all fours, crawling under the table to assist Bella with the width of my cock. Both of their warm tongues wetting me, as they slid up and down the sides of my shaft, taking turns tasting the precum leaking from the head.

Shifting in my seat, I'd never been so hot and bothered as I was in that moment, not fully hard, but still fully wanting it.

I more than wanted it.

I wanted to own it, hogtie it and fuck it into oblivion.

I wanted to fuck everything, and everyone.

I just wanted to fuck.

_Fuck!_

"Edward?" Her timid voice knocked me over like a set of goddamn bowling pins. Shit, I was ripped, and only after three drinks. At least, I think it was three.

"Hmm?"

"Did you hear me?"

Lifting my head, I let it fall back, fighting the droop in my lids as the two Bellas' in front of me became one. Leaning in, she scooted closer, pushing her full drink to the side, the bottom of the glass skating across the ridges in the worm-holed wood. It grated on my ears. Made me hear things.

"I said, take me home."

Sneakily scanning from side to side, she pressed harder against my groin.

"I want you to tie me up."

I groaned, "Fuck."

Grabbing her ankle, I ran it up and down my crotch before shoving her off and climbing out of the booth to toss her the keys.

"You're driving."

* * *

The ride back was a haze of frenzied touches and kisses, and yet I still couldn't get it up to full working order. I was more pissed than anything, frustrated beyond belief. Bella was finally willing to give it up, and there was shit I could do about it.

Pulling into the snowy drive, Bella fishtailed, knocking the side of my head into the window before coming to a stop.

"Fuck," I flinched, rubbing roughly at the sore spot as her hands ran all over my flaccid junk.

Resting my head back against the seat, I let her at it, no doubt, that I'd have it up in no time.

* * *

I woke to the sound of howls, sprawled out alone on my cold bed, and still fully dressed. Rubbing my hands over my face, I threw off the covers, springing from the bed only to sit back down again, having grown dizzy with the sudden movement.

I was still drunk, fuzzy and numb from the lingering alcohol. It took me a few moments to gather my bearings.

My head was pounding, still sore from where I had banged it earlier on the window.

Had that bitch caused me to bang it on the window, or was it all a dream? I wasn't exactly sure. My head was a murky mess, memories of the early evening hazy in my mind.

I wanted to bang _her_ head against a window. I wanted to bang both those stupid dogs' heads against a window.

Another loud bellow resounded from all four walls, and I folded into my lap, yanking on the ends of my hair before releasing it to slap my knees.

"Shut the fuck uuuuup!" I screamed, thrashing around on the side of the bed before shooting out and charging into the kitchen. Mind gone. My level of pissed-off on record-breaking high.

Recklessly fishing through all the drawers, I slammed each empty one shut, searching out the sharpest object I could find. I wanted to murder those fucking hounds, kill them dead. I planned on it, too, pulling out a shiny, new butcher knife, and thoughtfully looking it over. A sinister smile spread as easy as warmed butter.

Without a trace of hesitation, I flung open the door.

The midnight moon was hung high, the wind and trees stilling with the slam of my screen.

Quick like a goddamn jungle cat, I darted across the yard, one intention playing over and over in my mind.

Silencing those fucking hollows howls.

Those bloodhounds.

I was going to make them live up to their name.

Bella had moved them inside the house sometime during the night, a fact that caused an evil smirk to twist on my face. I was sure she only relocated them because of me. I wondered if I said something to offend, if the leftover truth serum had worked its magic while my consciousness bided. The smirk died away though, as I realized moving them inside, my very own idea, didn't do much to diminish the intensity of their cries. Instead of a woeful bane, it was then a muffled, woeful bane, which wasn't much fucking better.

Taking the steps two at a time, I slowly pulled open her screen, my smile returning once I found the stupid bitch had left the door unlocked. Kicking off my muddy boots, I cracked it open, sure to assist the screen door shut. The dogs quieted once I entered. Their sagging faces turned in my direction, their thick tails wagging. Lumbering from the hallway leading to Bella's bedroom and into the living room, they rested on their haunches, staring at me with round, expectant eyes.

Full of forgiveness.

The mutts had never snapped at me. They never bit. But their howls. It was their howls that hindered me, night and day, day and night. Keeping me from my work, keeping me from burying my cock deep inside their master. Death was imminent, and no man could blame me. No sane man, and I was sane. Yes, I was sane. Murdering them was only logical.

"Here, boys," I called, hiding the knife behind my back, snorting over the fact. "Come 'ere, boys."

I was slick, I'm telling ya. Real slick. Easing around the rickety furniture and carefully approaching those dogs, they didn't have a clue what was coming for them.

Or maybe they did.

They darted around me, knocking over a T.V. table in the process. Dirty dishes hit the floor, shattering and splintering into shards. Black and tan fur ambled around me as I swung the knife. Instead of landing a blow, I hit the floor, sputtering and screaming at those fucking dogs. Oatmeal coated my hands, and I cursed Bella for being such a slob, for not cleaning up after herself, and for owning these fucking hell hounds.

"Think you can outsmart me, huh?" I asked the dogs, shushing the growling response erupting from beneath the kitchen table.

I watched them for a while, the two beasts. Watched them for so long that they laid down, quiet for the first time in fucking forever. Pacing back and forth, I kept the blade behind my back, contemplating my strategy.

I would have to approach the twin beasts cautiously as they hunkered down, awaiting my next move. They expected me to toss the table over, breaking Bella's cheap dinnerware in the process. They expected a smashed vase and scattered, plastic flowers, but I wouldn't give it to them. I was smarter than that. So much fucking smarter.

Waving at the little fuckers, I flipped both of them off before making my way down the darkened hallway. Bella's bathroom was just as messy as the rest of the house, and I couldn't help but wonder when she became so fucking disgusting.

Turning on the faucet, I cradled my palms under the spray, splashing the cold water in my face. Just enough to wake me up, to help me think more clearly.

Think more clearly.

Wiping myself dry with my own shirt, I glanced up into the mirror, finding my reflection gaunt. I was drained, void of all color. The lighting in this room did nothing for my complexion.

"You're a fucking genius, Masen."

The fingers running along my scruffy jaw shot out to the bottom corner of the mirror. The solution was right in front of my face. Quite literally, as I easily pried the cabinet open, finding it stocked full of prescription bottles, enough to make me question the girl next door, the one I thought I had figured out.

Fluoxetine.

Carbamazepine.

Clonazepam.

Lithium.

_What the fuck?_

A low groan broke through the silence. Bella's bedroom was directly across the hall from the bathroom, and I would have realized this if I were in the right frame of mind.

Right frame of mind.

The pills in the cabinet weren't the only ones in the house. Blue and white, round and oblong, they were scattered everywhere on the nightstand beside her, where she rested in a peaceful slumber. I stood over her for a while, gripping the pill bottles in my hands, my hatred brewing in the pit of my belly. There she lay resting without a care in the world, her bare legs tangled in cotton sheets, while I begged for sleep night after night.

My glare shot up with the sound of heavy paws scratching against the wood floor. I rounded the end of Bella's bed, walking right past the beasts and quietly commanding them to follow. They obeyed without question, their fat asses traipsing right along behind me, down the hall and into the kitchen where I taunted them with the jingle of happy pills.

"You guys are gonna love these."

Setting the bottles down on the table, I turned my back to scrounge a pack of hotdogs. The antsy mutts watched in interest as I shoved pill after pill into the cold meat, their tongues lapping at their dry noses.

"There ya go." I tossed them two each, resting my chin in my hand as they devoured the pork and pills. "That'll make you feel better."

I waited patiently for the medication to take effect, quietly humming the theme to Underdog below my breath. It wasn't all that long before they were flat on their sides, snoring loudly. I kicked one in the head just to make sure before stripping them of their collars.

It was about damn time I had some peace and quiet.

Peace and quiet.

I sighed.

A weight was lifting off my chest with every step I took back to Bella's room. I watched a moment while she slept, kneeing the mattress before poking her arm, and then finally shaking her shoulder.

Bella rolled over, whispering a name in her sleep. My name. Her hair was matted to the side of her face, and her wrinkled shirt twisted under her tits. Reaching out, I couldn't help myself, grazing the tip of my finger over her naked flesh, and watching in fascination as her skin erupted in a trail of goosebumps along her abdomen. There was nothing special about the clothing she wore: a plain t-shirt and cotton panties, but there was something extraordinary about the way she never flinched, not once, as I tugged the panties down over her hipbones, exposing what I'd been craving since the day she pulled into her muddy drive.

I was sick.

I was suffering.

I was cautious touching her, so fucking cautious, nudging her from her side until she turned onto her back. For a moment, I considered tugging her underwear entirely from her body, but she looked too fucking sweet with the thin material tangled around her knees. Her hips rose as I stroked the inside of her thighs, slowly making my way up. She wanted me. Even in sleep, she wanted me. I could tell by the way she ground her hips into the bed, and then back up. I could tell by the way she whispered my name, biting her bottom lip between syllables. I could tell by the smell of her sex in the air.

"You like it when I touch you, don't you, Bella?"

A strangled moan was her response. Her head began to dip and nod, and she begged for me to touch her, to stroke her, in a sleep-induced trance. Fuck, maybe I was the one in the sleep-induced trance.

_Is this even real?_

_Am I even here? In this crazy bitch's house?_

I tossed the pill bottles and collars from my hands onto the nightstand. The loose pills scattered about, and I picked one up and popped it into my mouth, dry swallowing the son of a bitch. I was uncaring of what it was. Anything would help the throbbing in my head at that point.

Sitting at her bedside, I continued my quest along Bella's body, gently peeling her shirt up over her tits and staring down in genuine surprise.

Bella's breasts were fuller than I imagined. Round and firm, with small, pink nipples straining against the cool, night air. She moaned and trembled once my hot breath pricked against the coolness of one, stiff peak. I rolled her nipple around my tongue, tasting and watching, searching her face for any signs that she would awaken and find me pleasuring her, and pleasuring her I was.

I was just getting started when Bella pulled her arms in, covering herself. Tisking, I grabbed one of the collars from the stand, tracing the creamy length of her arm before gripping her wrist and lifting it above her head where I tied it to the cast-iron frame of the bed. I gave the leather a firm tug, making sure it was secure before doing the same to her other.

Still, she didn't wake up as she lay moaning and shifting beneath me.

Giving in, I gave her what she wanted, my fingers gliding down her sides to the edge of her panties. Tugging them from her legs, I parted her thighs, frowning at the resistance I suddenly felt.

Games.

Always playing games, even in her sleep.

Classic Bella, she fought to keep her legs together, another low moan falling from her lips, but I was persistent, shoving them open, satisfied with the gleam between her legs.

_Tells me all I need to know._

_She wants this._

_She wants me._

Situating myself between her spread legs, I traced the outer edge of her pussy, separating her lips and sinking my thumbs inside. Wetness seeped out around them, coating me to my knuckles, and I dipped down, looking up into big, brown eyes as I took my first lick.

"Morning, sunshine," I greeted, pressing my flat tongue against her swollen clit. I smiled against her needy pussy as she bucked up into my mouth, her eyes rolling into the back of her head.

Words seemed to escape her, which was fine by me. With each open-mouth moan, I thought of how deep her mouth could take my cock.

"You wanna suck my cock, Bella? Huh? Is that why you've got that pretty, little mouth open?" I asked against her wet flesh, feeling her inner walls clench.

Nodding, she attempted to wiggle her wrists free of her restraints, confusion so pretty when pinched in her brow. I chuckled at the scene.

"Eh," I shrugged. "Maybe tomorrow."

Removing my thumbs from inside her, I asked her to lick them clean, sure to leave a trail of her neediness running down her chin before standing. I ignored her worried questions about the dogs, and how I got the collars, her voice only getting louder and louder the further I walked away. Sure she was going to keep me awake with her squawking, I sought out a roll of duct tape before stomping back into her room to dig around her dresser drawer for a muffling pair of socks.

It was a chore getting the balled up cotton into the bitch's damn mouth. I dodged a couple of near misses before I got every fiber in there good enough to tape it shut. I needlessly shushed her. "Shh, you hear that? ... Silence." With a sinister smile, I condescendingly patted the top of her head.

"Time to rest now."

* * *

Adrenaline rushed through me. Adrenaline and something else, possibly the pill I popped before stumbling back home. Either way, I was on a roll, the tips of my fingers practically bleeding as I pounded on the keys.

I couldn't sleep.

Not now.

Not when I was so close.

My eyes grew weary as the seconds wheezed by, but my heart lurched forward. Blood rushed through my system, the sustenance of life pushing me towards my goal. And silence, golden silence met my ears for the first time in days, weeks, months? I shook my head, my memory lagging and unable to focus on the blurry memory of time, not when there were more important things to concentrate on.

_Keys._

_Characters._

_Deadlines._

_Silence._

When the last key struck the page, I paused. Awe and satisfaction seeped into my system, but I blinked it away and ripped the page from the typewriter. The clock struck four, and I became frantic, binding my manuscript, tucking it safely into a large, manila envelope, and darting through the door. Air didn't reach my lungs, not until I stepped from the post office and into the cool air, my manuscript, my prize-winning manuscript, finally on its way to the publisher in New York.

I grew hard just thinking about it: the notoriety, the money, the women … women. Bella's face flashed before me, and I gunned the engine, a grin stretching across my face as I thought of her bound and gagged, waiting for me to finish what I started.

_I bet she's so wet, waiting for me. There're no cockblocking dogs to stop me now._

The rental shook and squealed down the rutted drive, splashing mud and muck over the dull shine of the silver paint. The slam of the driver's door was a gunshot in the dimming evening light, the only sound to reach my ears, and I basked in the silence.

The house was death: dreary and quiet. The door creaked and protested as I toed it open, the engulfing air from outside whispering in. Stench filled my nostrils, the scent of decaying flesh, but I barely paid it any mind. I was too enraptured with the memory of Bella's wet pussy, too caught up in my sex-fueled fantasies to focus on the dead dogs. They no longer stood in my way, not even blocking my path to her bedroom. Instead, they lay curled up beside one another on the rug near the dead fireplace, their heads resting beside one another in death.

Anticipation was killing me, smothering my breath from my lungs. Creeping down the hallway, my zipper was already in my hand, and I tugged it downward, ready to release my stiffening cock. Bella must have been as anxious as me, tied up and horny for hours on end with no relief in sight. Gloating at the thought, I unbuttoned my jeans and kicked her bedroom door open, but froze in the doorway.

The bed, that rumbled, sagging bed, lay bare. Nothing but fisted sheets remained behind, no Bella in sight. The floor groaned under my boots, moaning and whining, and I cringed, reminded of those fucking dogs. Pressing my hands to my ears, my stinging eyes filled with frustrated tears.

"Those fucking dogs," I moaned. I could still hear them. Would they ever stop howling?

Another moan from the warped wood, but this time it wasn't my boot that made the sound. The bedroom door slammed into me, jarring my body from the impact of the ancient lumber, pushed away from the wall by an unseen force.

Stumbling, I fell into the doorframe, my head pounding, my stomach lurching. The door creaked on its hinges, the edges of my vision going black. My hands fumbled around, seeking support as my knees buckled. Perfume bottles toppled over, the scent I once desired now burning my nostrils. I gasped for fresh breath, but it was the last gasp. Air filled my lungs and then it was cut off, my throat constricted as something cinched around my neck, burning, tightening.

My reflection stared back at me in the mirror hanging on her wall. Eyes bugged out, tinged red on the edges, and a fucking dog collar wrapped around my neck. Bella clung to my back, her small hands wrapped around the object, cutting off my oxygen as her legs wrapped around my waist, her heat pressing against my back. I ripped at her hands, but it was in vain. Insanity flashed in her eyes, the chocolate brown I once found so dull now brimming with hostility and wrath as she smothered my existence from the earth.

"You killed them!" she cried. "They were all had!"

The quiet voice she once spoke had since morphed into something different, coming out as a growl, tearing from her chest. I stumbled backwards, knocking her into the bedpost, sending a scream howling from her throat. She only choked me harder, the nylon digging into my flesh just as the ropes had once burned into hers. How my heart didn't explode I'll never know.

Terror overcame me, for I knew that surely I would die. I underestimated the woman, thinking her weak and unworthy.

Unless it was a dream.

_Is this really a dream?_

_Please let it be a dream._

I was close, so close to achieving what I wanted: fame and fortune; and that little bitch was attempting to deny me what was rightfully mine. To die would be a failure; the utmost failure. And I wasn't a failure.

I fought harder, twisting and turning on my wobbly legs, the darkening edges of my vision creeping to the center of my eyes. We collapsed on the bed, her tightening grip never-ending as she whispered in my ear.

"You sick fuck. You're gonna pay for what you did - to me, my dogs."

My mouth gaped open, but I couldn't respond. The stranglehold she had on me won, surpassing what little fight I had left in me. The darkness seeped entirely over my vision, clouding my view. My eyes grew heavier, weak. Exhaustion stole me away, and I was drifting.

Drifting ...

* * *

The Autumn wind whipped and whirled, blowing the leaves from the trees. Freely, they tumbled down the street getting stuck under all the passer- bys' traipsing feet.

There was but one that was spared from a death, oh so cold and callous. Its crispy, curled appendages picked up by the whipping, whirling wind with a brunt force so full of malice.

One leaf, obscure and timely, landed on a glassy shore, tucking itself neatly inside the windowsill of a little, local bookstore.

Bottomless brown eyes roamed the window display, her smile she devotedly committed. Stepping inside, she had no reason to hide having since been swiftly acquitted.

Satisfied with the sale, she tucked it inside her purse, the meaning behind the title not to be mistaken. This week's up and coming best seller was The Hell Hounds of Rickety Flat by the late Edward Anthony Masen.


	8. Envy

_**Envy:**__ noun \ˈen-vē\ (Latin - Invidia)_

1 : Painful or resentful awareness of an advantage enjoyed by another joined with a desire to possess the same advantage.

2 : To feel a desire to have what someone else has : to feel envy because of (someone or something)

Psychological comparison – Envy prefers to destroy, where jealousy prefers to control.

* * *

_"__**Still ... the possibilities of weightlessness are there for the ingenious **_

_**to exploit. No need to carry bras into space, that's for sure. **_

_**Imagine a spacecraft of the future, with a crew of a thousand ladies, **_

_**off to Alpha Centauri, with two thousand breasts bobbing beautifully **_

_**and quivering delightfully in response to their every weightless **_

_**movement … and I am the commander of the craft, **_

_**and it is Saturday morning and time for inspection, naturally…"**_

Michael Collins -Command Module Pilot of Apollo 11

Quoted from his autobiography _Carrying the Fire_

(Random House Publishing Group, 1974)

* * *

**Horizon's Ascension Song**

**Tempo: Andante e affettuoso. **

_*slowly raises baton*_

* * *

**The Space Academy Graduation Ceremony**

**Houston, Texas**

**May 4, 3100 AD**

The sound of waning applause subsided when the Chancellor of the Space Academy moved to the podium at the center of the stage.

"Thank you for that moving presentation from our extremely talented Cyber Implant Specialist, Mrs. Savage. Now, I'd like to introduce our Valedictorian of this graduating class and future spacefarer on the next Aro Mission to Mars, Miss Isabella Swan!"

The audience response was a loud one, resoundingly supportive of the young woman as she walked slowly towards the podium, her spine erect in confidence and her smile bright with happiness, sure-stepping towards the front of the stage. She inhaled a calming breath, willing her voice not to tremble beneath the surge of her roiling nerves before opening her lips to speak.

"My fellow graduates, think about progress and how far we've come – how beautiful our song of ascension into space and strides onward have been. The collective tempo of the emergence of human progression is a powerfully diverse one, the walking pace of _andante_ rising to the agile-brightness of _allegro_, with moments of sonorous arias and then quietly subtle movements softening in between. Since the first tentative steps of mankind's earliest ancestors, the winds of intrigue and ingenuity have stirred the rising dawn of our progress as a species. A brilliant assonance has been shaped by resounding thud-forward footprints dancing across the Earth's epoch, the meter of time juxtaposing onward glances with bone-white hope."

The stadium was filled with fifty thousand in attendance, and yet one could hear a pin drop within the silent emergence of rapt attention of the audience, many leaning forward to draw themselves further into her resonant thrall, except for one. Michael Newton frowned as he listened to the beginning Swan's speech, deep lines of churlish annoyance wrinkling his forehead. He always found her and her fiancé, Edward Cullen, to be irritating road blocks to reaching first place. As salutatorian, he should've been proud of his achievements but wasn't, his bitterness clouding his mind. He frowned as he redirected his joyless attention to the reminder of yet another failure, as she continued her speech.

"The pulse of the cosmic metronome keeping humanity's cadence moving forward has continued the constant in our prospective evolution. Over a thousand years ago, some eyes were drawn to the inky-shimmering mystery in the distance, the countless stars unveiling their poetic lullaby, shining point by point where horizon kissed night sky."

Newton rolled his eyes in resentment at her condescension masked as a positive message, knowing full well that no one gave a shit about her poetic flights of fancy regarding the history of human exploration. He had an important scientific experiment waiting for his attention in the lab after the ceremony, and the longer she spoke, the more he was delayed, and the more likely Edward Cullen would take first prize in the Volturi Scientific Consortium Award – something that he would not allow to happen. The taste of copper filled Newton's mouth as he bit his tongue in frustration, jarred out of his black thoughts by Swan's annoying voice grating on his nerves.

"Looking outward towards the horizon ripened into a sweeter upward, and some among us began to consider beyond what we thought we could reach. It's _that_ spirit that became the air in our inhales and exhales of change, the adaptability of our species tested."

Newton turned his gaze towards Edward Cullen, who was smiling up at his fiancé in clear admiration as she delivered her speech. Comparing himself to Edward molded his wretchedness regarding his own inadequacies, making him yearn to _test _his nemesis with conflict, because Cullen was far more impressive to look at when he was vulnerable or on the rare occasion seething in discontent and tripping over his disgusting arrogance. Edward was taller than most men, extraordinarily handsome and one of the brightest minds out of the space academy in centuries … he was everything Michael was _not_. Cullen's memory was astounding, his mathematical theories breaking new ground in astronomical physics, and he had the esteem of not only everyone around him, but the devoted admiration and companionship of Isabella Swan, a woman of extraordinary intellectual aptitude in her own right.

From a very young age, Michael learned from his father's urging that envy could be a healthy catalyst for self-improvement because the emotion reminded him of the things he desired and should strive for, his inner-drive pushing him in pursuit of the things he wanted in life … that a robust dose of envy could determine his future choices and his bright-hoped legacy.

Yet Michael's hopes had never been healthy or remotely realistic. His sights had been firmly set on Edward Cullen from their first few days at the Academy as freshmen. Mr. Newton and his son had always gotten ahead by cutting corners and bribing those that were malleable. Edward Cullen came from a poor family with no powerful connections in his back pocket. The Newtons held every privilege and maintained powerful connections that pushed them ahead, often times unfairly – the father always compared the son to the disadvantaged Cullen, who began showing his intellectual gifts and social ease from the very start, where his son seemed to flounder. Instead of working hard to advance with integrity and on his own merit, as Edward did, Newton decided to take out his annoyance with his nemesis in underhanded and cruelly exploitative ways, his twisted, poisonous intentions rotting from the inside out.

In his quest to prove his father wrong and to best Cullen in every way imaginable, he grew consumed by his envy. Influenced by his fear of failing to garner and surpass the success his father now enjoyed in life, Michael Newton embraced whatever means necessary to achieve greatness himself. He believed that part of that greatness would come when he had a perfect mate who could share in his glory, in keeping with the powerful connection his own parents shared and from which they seemed to benefit.

Edward Cullen and Isabella Swan were considered the perfect couple in the eyes of all who met them, and while Michael couldn't dispute that truth, it still hurt him to admit that it was that kind of closeness, respect, and glory that he also wanted. The tide of envy and resentment surged further inward as he scornfully listened to Isabella's speech, Newton's evil-eye pinched temples and channeled eye brows throwing his contempt at Cullen one last time before directing his scorn towards the long-winded fiancé at the podium.

"In order to get to the shimmering points of light above us, we had to first sever the tethers of earth's gravitational pull on us and leave one horizon in the quest for the next by gazing far into the heavens. The action of human skull meeting cervical spine became a necessity as the Earth and humanity changed. We reached the moon and then even farther, our swelling dreams distended to the shore of goals we wished to reach, then waning back into the stilling sea of space-weariness, the problems on the Earth's surface taking precedence and stalling star-high exploration. Yet the lyrically expansive broadening of Earth's edge increased opportunities and amplified human drive and dreams, the horizon's ascension song of progress resonating throughout our solar system, pushing us to dream bigger."

Newton could feel the hostility towards Edward ignite as he listened to his fiancé use the sweeping language she was admired for, her ability for writing and poetry often extolled. The tone of her speech made him uneasy, the familiar isolation creating conflict deep within his darkening heart, tinder flaring under the heat of his unflattering prejudice. Somewhere along the way, Newton began enjoying his isolation because he grew content in his bitterness and addicted to the euphoria his pervasive envy gave him, his chemical dependence on the adrenaline high growing more acute. It was something he yearned to feel with an increasing frequency, his moderation of negativity slipping as he began asserting himself the way his very successful father had always encouraged him to.

Yet there was nothing encouraging about the way Newton's covetousness manifested as he grew up, and as he watched Edward Cullen now, he couldn't help remembering the injustices he suffered because of him, the aperture of his envy rupturing further.

_The glory of success and the prominence of intellectual respect._

_The most intelligent woman on his arm._

_Invitations to the most exclusive clubs at the Academy._

_More friends than anyone could possibly need._

_Acclaim from everyone who knew him._

_An intelligence that surpassed any other man he knew._

_Jessica Stanley. _

Michael turned in his chair and aimed his glare at the _bitch_ Stanley, who sat in the row next to him as she grinned at the woman at the podium, clearly pleased with the message being conveyed. He scowled at his ex girlfriend as the bitter memories of her dumping him surfaced, for she'd almost become his biggest _coup, _his means to the respect he sought along with the attention he'd garner with the beautiful woman on his arm just as his successful father enjoyed with his mother, a partnership Michael had grown to emulate.

When Newton first met Jessica Stanley, she was a confident and charismatic beauty who attracted the notice of every male in the freshmen class. When she began dating the alpha male Cullen, she became even more appealing by way of her surge in popularity. After her relationship with Cullen amicably fizzled out freshman year, Newton was ecstatic when she had agreed to begin dating him because he sought the popularity just as much, falling prey to rankism, believing that he'd achieve the same level of importance that Cullen seemed to possess. Yet the belonging he sought turned into the disappointment he got because Jessica was unlike his mother in all the ways that mattered to his aspirations, her outward beauty a taunting reminder of her inner-failings as someone who would help him get ahead. His mother made his father's ambitions her priority and was ruthless and conniving. Jessica was a genuinely nice person without a malicious bone in her body, always insisting on follow the straight and narrow path, remaining morally steadfast and forgiving.

_Not_ the type of mate he was looking for.

Newton was a pro at harboring mutilated ideals and causing misfortune. He exploited the talents of others to achieve his goals and sabotaged the futures of many to secure his own happiness, believing that he deserved more despite the low standards he managed to achieve through his own means, thriving in dishonesty. He cheated on tests while attending the Academy and was ruthless in order to best the other candidates to get a spot on one of the upcoming Mars missions on the Twileye8, making sure that his father made the proper, exorbitant donations to the right people to make his trip a doubly sure thing.

So he had no qualms about taking advantage of Jessica's idealistic good-heartedness in order to _catch up_ when he enviously swiped her ideas and hard work by plagiarizing one of her thesis proposals to better his chances at gaining the clearance to travel to the outer colonies. He became driven by his resentment instead of motivated by the positives in his life, placing more importance on success than happiness that he had a beautiful girlfriend who seemed to care about him.

That disconnect with Newton's own happiness was made even more acute because of his obsession with sizing himself against the most successful and popular … and everyone seemed so enamored with the glory they attributed to Edward Cullen, placing him on a far higher pedestal than Michael ever stood a chance at being. Every woman seemed to swoon over Cullen's good looks, his brilliance, and a few even raved about the size of his dick. _Three and a half fists. _Or so Jessica crowed as she dumped him after discovering that he plagiarized her thesis, disgusted by the lengths he was willing to go to succeed, aiming to wound his manly pride.

It _did_, his envy becoming even more pervasive, arresting the lucid and confident life decisions he _could_ have made yet didn't.

Newton's insecurities tainted any colors of happiness in his life, a dark place forming where unscrupulousness became a derivative of his burgeoning hostility towards anyone that seemed to lead a joyful existence or who enjoyed a sense of belonging with others – things that often attracted his envy. His desire to excel and acquire what he wanted came at a dangerous price. He paid dearly with his own potential inner joy, and he didn't strive to become immune to his bitterness. He embraced it, throwing kindling into self-sabotaging flame. It was a blaze that charred his emotional well-being, his envious feelings illuminating his grudges and reflecting his discontent with his own successes. His hunger never waned, the thrilling assertion of his selfish-driven influence over what once belonged to others fueling his power to take what he wanted. Jessica Stanley learned that the very hard way when she discovered his plagiarism, as did many of his peers after unearthing his rotten deceit.

Ultimately, Michael had no confidence in his own self-worth so he had no qualms about questioning the competence of others. He thought that Edward probably didn't deserve half of the success and acclaim he deserved, making him distrust the sheeny praise Cullen received even more, and so the deep-seeded hatred was fed and flourished, because what Mike was best at was lying to himself, fertilizing that envy with indistinct motivations and hanging those blurry goals on the dissipating end-trails of shooting stars.

Newton heard through various sources that Swan and Cullen were scheduled to travel on the next mission to Mars, and he was secretly relieved about that fact, especially since he'd yet to receive clearance and the funding to travel to the outer colonies and didn't want others to learn about his failures to acquire the proper credentials. _Out of sight, out of mind._ Yet at the moment, all he wanted was for the perfect fiancé of his nemesis to end her speech and be on her way, taking the beloved _golden boy_ of the Academy with her. It was at that moment that the annoyance of Bella's voice brought his attention back to the podium.

" … That ascension song was one that inspired us to build settlement on the Earth's moon, Mars, Jupiter's moons Ganymede and Europa, and most recently on Pluto, with manned missions reaching beyond the radius of the Kuiper asteroid field, bringing humanity even closer to the Alpha Centauri star system. These footfalls of progress signify something extraordinary for those of us graduating today, for each step literally means vertical energy rising for our hopes, our dreams, and our abilities to reach farther into space than we've ever been able to before. In closing, I'd like to share this poem with you, something I wrote to honor each of you as we leave the Academy in pursuit of your own dreams with our first steps into our futures … "

Bella lifted her eyes and scanned over the classmates seated before her, making eye contact with many of her closest friends, her gaze lingering on her handsome fiancé for a longer moment before returning downcast to the paper on the podium.

"Our choice to move forward begins with a step.

Dorsiflex into the decisive track of the powerful heel,

Acceleration of hind-limb force,

Spring-massing into the future.

Our footstep continues with the decent of the calloused yet resilient

Skin of the heel into the starsighed setting-down of resolve.

Graceful arch stretched out over dreams

Beneath the pressure of our actions,

A bridge defying boundaries,

Surmounting the fear-gutting cliffs of hesitation.

Plantarflexion into the beyond,

Meta-theory meeting metatarsals.

Hello little toe bones,

Bearers of the force of our abstractive footfall,

The weight of our decisively inspiring gait powerfully

Spreading the regolith with our momentum.

The tips of our toes at the end of our step

Barely scrapes the surface of progress,

Yet our footprint leaves a reminder of our indelible persistence,

And a reason to make another one ahead of it.

One step-dream is momentum towards breathless awe,

But sometimes our trajectory needs velocity.

Both feet together now, parallel and forward-facing. Jump!"

Bella looked up from her speech with tear-filled eyes when she heard muted sniffles from the audience, trying to level her own composure with a deep breath. She lowered her eyes to continue, "When you take your next step, my fellow graduates, imagine where we'll be headed. We are about to make footprints on history, to embark on discoveries of our own. Many of us are going to Mars and the outer colonies, while others are entering into careers with the space industries operating above the Kármán line. Wherever your destination may be, I hope that your trajectory is a happy one, and that your destination is starlit and filled with positivity and warmth. Thank you for the happy memories and for helping shape me into the explorer I also hope to become. I am grateful for each of you and wish you a blissful future."

Most of the graduates had been moved to tears, for their special moment of achievement had been bitter-sweet. Many in the audience lost loved ones in the virus of 3098 AD, which swept over the Earth's surface in a matter of days, killing one-fourth of Earth's population. The death toll included entire families, as was the case with the Swans and Cullens – the losses made the graduates' journeys into the stars even more imperative, one day expanding genetic lines and transferring many of the eggs from Earth's precariously unraveling basket.

The survival of the human species depended on the fearlessness of the future explorers that just served as witness to Bella's speech. Their footfalls would become far-reaching, thus the appropriateness of the poem she'd just shared. Their tragic losses were not mentioned, but the meaning gently implied.

As the classmates and members of the audience stood to applaud Bella's speech, Newton sat solemnly and unmoving, refusing to show the positive emotions he didn't feel at first, and only offering small claps when Jessica fearlessly met his spiteful gaze, her expressive face glaring at his rudeness. She wasn't cowed despite his theft of her thesis and his sociopathic tendencies to get ahead, and she never allowed her regret of having a relationship with him keep her from positively looking forward. Her angry stare bolstered her appreciation for having escaped his clutches without her heart being truly hurt by his envious actions. He was a vile reminder of why she pitied his next girlfriend, and nothing more.

Bella made her way down the stairs to take her place next to Newton as the Chancellor walked to stand in front of the podium. She grew disconcerted by the way that Michael leaned away from her despite the considerable distance between their seats. He never failed to make her uneasy whenever she was in his presence, and she looked forward to never having to share a classroom or a laboratory with him again.

"Finally, we come to the announcements many of you have been looking forward to. The competition was incredibly challenging this year, and so the Space Academy's Board of Scientific Excellence has weighed the research results of the top ten finalists, and it's been decided that a first, second and third place should be awarded this year. The third place winner for his research in stellar radiation is Edward Cullen, who will receive a five hundred thousand dollar grant for future research."

Bella took the opportunity to get away from Newton and rushed to congratulate her fiancé, remaining seated on his lap after the applause settled. She'd rather appear inappropriate in the presence of the Chancellor and her professors than return to her assigned seat, her skin crawling just thinking about being near the off-putting salutatorian.

"The second place winner for his research in Astronautics is Michael Newton, who will receive a one million dollar grant for future research."

The applause of his classmates had been less animated, yet Newton was too excited to care. Because his envy became a kind of body chemistry, there was an adrenaline fueled rush that he sensed every time he thought of besting Cullen, the novelty of bursts of spite never dulling. It was a high that got him off when no woman was offering to, a phantom craving that always begged for more. And now that he had actually bested the _golden child_ at something, he felt justified in his prior hostility and validated in every way that mattered to him most. Pulled back into reality by the sensation of a large hand grabbing his in congratulations, Newton was faced with the kind yet subdued eyes of his nemesis and was taken aback enough to offer Cullen his own dim smile and lazy-loose handshake, even if it wasn't heartfelt.

Yet Newton's euphoric celebration of self-relevance was short lived, his exuberance souring along with his faulty presumption of besting the one man he wanted to most.

"In an unprecedented move by the Assemblage of Scientific Scholars, a collaboration has taken first place. The winners for their joint collusion on Hybrid propellants are Edward Cullen and Isabella Swan, who will receive a two million dollar grant for future research."

The applause of his classmates was deafening, the cradle of the Newton's aggression rocked once again by the sway of poisoned feelings of inferiority and disbelief, an uneven breath quivering past his blanching lips as he imagined a morbid daydream of Cullen and Swan laying motionless in a puddle of blood, lifeless and no longer a threat to his ambitions. Shaking his head to clear that tempting fantasy away, he watched the happy couple embrace and share in their success. Their happiness only amplified his sense of destructive isolation. Resentment surged through him as he was bested once again, his envious spitefulness forcing him to come to terms with the simple fact he couldn't top Cullen this time...but what he _could_ do was set his sights on the Volturi Scientific Consortium Award. It was the most prestigious award granted to a scientist, and it was something that Newton wanted desperately. With the announcement for that award a few months away, he had lots of time to perfect his research strategies and hire specialists if he had to, on Daddy's dime of course. He would win _at all costs_.

Slipping into the cheering crowd, he kept his retreat as stealthy as possible as he sneaked behind the row that held his applauding parents, trying to avoid his father's disappointed scowl and mother's dim-bored frown.

Michael Newton knew it was time to try to turn his burning page. He hoped that justice would prevail one day soon, his legacy as bright as the sun – a sun that would keep him warm and serve as a blinding reminder to his parents that he was better and more worthy than Edward Cullen would ever be.

* * *

While the 22 year-olds had been given the clearance and awarded the funding for their journey into space immediately following the graduation ceremony, Edward and Bella decided to delay their space voyage in order to enjoy a little rest and relaxation after four years of rigorous training and preparation for off-world colony life at the Space Academy. Following graduation, they embarked on an eight month vacation which included getting married and a lengthy honeymoon trip that took them around the world. In the back of their minds, they knew that traveling into space held many risks and that circumstances might keep them from returning to Earth ever again, so they traveled and relished in the beauties of the planet.

Yet they didn't allow their fear of the unknown to keep them from answering the siren's call of the horizon's ascension song that beckoned so many previous spacefarers before them, inspiring them to finally take the leap themselves. On January 6, 3101 AD, the Cullens boarded the space shuttle and broached the Kármán Line for the first time, crossing the boundary into space and entering the orbit of the Tweyel8 Sojourn Sky Lab Space Station.

The married scientists had five days to experience the microgravity environment of the Tweyel8 before being transported to the Aro Star Ship for their eight month journey to Mars. The Sky Lab was deliberately operated with a disabled artificial gravitational system to prepare space colonists for all eventualities they might experience in the various climates, terraformed atmospheres, and artificial environments of our current space expansions.

The curiosity of living and doing _other_ things as a married couple in weightlessness also appealed to those that made the Sojourn their resting place. With five days to spend in microgravity, the Cullens intended to make every moment memorable.

* * *

The moment Michael Newton floated out of the medic station after his physical examination upon boarding Tweyel8, he felt an extreme wave of nausea descend upon him, and he knew it had nothing to do with his body's adjustment to weightlessness. It had _everything_ to do with the jaundiced emotions wicking through his seething rivalry with the man he spotted floating at one of the laboratory stations in the area he was headed, his suppressed feelings once again rising to the surface. The quelling look on Newton's face as he looked at his nemesis consisted of daggered hatred, a creeping green-haze forging into the crevices of his every thought, misshapen arrest of lucidity seeping into his bones.

Michael's trip to the outer colonies had been made with the intention of running away from his failures, and while his father spent a great deal of money assuring that his son's mental and academic records were squeaky clean, it appeared that more baggage accompanied him on his new journey than he'd anticipated. Newton had been under the impression that all of his former colleagues had traveled on to Mars on the previous mission, and yet there was no mistaking the truth floating before him - Edward Cullen was impossible to miss. Cullen had everything Newton desperately yearned for, and he realized with a crescendoing recognition that he'd have a very long time aboard the transport to Mars to find opportunities to best the one man who had what he wanted.

_He has my life. I'll have it one day._

Revved on the high of his envious distortions, he calculatingly sewed an extra-wide smile to his wary lips as the wife floated around the corner to enter the lab. It was time to say hello and reunite with old academy chums. _Foes._

Just the hint of looming conflict made his resentment salivate. With the residue of rivalry roughening his motives and resolve, he took one last bitter-throated swallow of his insecurities before pushing off the wall with his adrenaline-damp hands and floated towards the Cullens.

_Houston, we have lift off._

* * *

Bella and Edward took a few restful moments to themselves after a mentally grueling series of lab tests on the space station, their sighing stretches propelling them back into the air behind their lab stations as they floated, the need for intensive concentration drifting away.

A thousand years ago, it was discovered that certain scientific experiments performed more accurately in orbital conditions, amplifying previously abstract notions and allowing scientists to broaden their vision for what experiences in space would become. It was a vital reason why NASA maintained the operation of the space lab without the artificial gravitational systems activated, something that Edward and Bella appreciated more fully, their relaxing motions amplified. Every waking moment they spent aboard the newest research vessel in NASA's fleet of scientific sky labs was accounted for, so peaceful moments were few and far between, thus all the more welcome.

Bella felt Edward's left hand engulf her right one before opening her eyes in curiosity, her eyebrows quirking upward in silent inquisition as her husband pushed off of the wall of flashing lights, using his momentum to effortlessly pull her towards the long white corridor before them, floating into a small laboratory before she could ask about their destination.

The sliding partition closed, sealing them in privacy, and Edward pushed a button on his RegLink wrist band, the lock audibly clicking into place with his directive as he pushed another to turn off the lab camera for privacy.

Bella and Edward weren't aware that they'd been followed by the mosquito-sized drone Michael Newton brought on board for reconnaissance purposes. He'd used the drone during school to spy on his classmates' lab experiments and to cheat on tests. It had especially come in handy on the space station once he realized that the Cullens would share his journey. The drone was small enough to remain virtually undetected, and re-programmed to follow Edward Cullen's every move once Newton knew his archrival was accessible. It attached itself to and remained hidden behind the grates of a vent on the far wall of the small laboratory, transmitting the video-stream of the couple after they locked themselves in the small space.

Despite the months that passed since graduation, Newton's envy never waned. He actually found himself watching the couple even more critically now that he was within proximity, so much so that his obsession with their every move fueled his unrelenting desire to harness their happiness - Edward's in particular. Every action, every experiment, and every conversation was of great interest to Newton, always keeping his chief nemesis in his line of vision using the drone or his own eyes.

The fact that he could watch them alone in this private moment excited him even more, giving him a feeling of power over an opportunity they felt was theirs alone, a cruel-tinged grin slithering into his cheeks as their images were covertly transmitted to the small screen on his wrist, which also masked as a watch. He worked at his lab station as the images began streaming through, a sense of nefarious excitement coursing through him at the thought that he was about to uncover a lab experiment that would add to his own research project. He watched as they both drifted to the large window and clung to the bars surrounding it to better position themselves in the microgravity they'd slowly become accustomed to since their arrival on the Tweyel8.

Bella and Edward hadn't experienced the nausea from being subjected to the effects of near Zero-G, and they relished in the new sensation of buoyancy, knowing that their feeling of it would be finite. Becoming acclimated to the sensation of weightlessness was just a preparative step to equip colonists for the possibility of a malfunction with the pressurized systems maintaining the artificial gravity on the large transport ships or bustling human colonies of Mars and beyond. Yet acclimation to weightlessness wasn't the couple's _sole_ objective. The kink factor also presented its own appeal. As long as space exploration had been conceived as a possibility by humans, sex in space had often played the setting in erotic fantasies in the human imagination, as well as in the minds of the Cullens, who floated in front of the large window looking down over the Earth. Bella's strands of long brown hair drifted in the direction of his shorter coppery ones as they floated closer to each other, chocolate eyes capturing his warm-jade gaze before smiling, unanimously turning to peer at the earth below.

"It looks like an illuminated diamond necklace draped around the neck of the Caribbean Sea!"

The excitement of Bella's observation echoed within their small hiding place. Still shrouded in a gown of pre-dawn, the Panamanian necklace scintillated off of the coast of the sea. The Tweyel8 drifted east over the dawning blue-black expanse of the Atlantic, the distillation of shadows into a shimmer-paling awakening. Husband and wife hovered in silence as they watched the sun rise over the water, blue-greens licked through sapphires, the coast of Portugal soon came into view in a captivating interplay balanced between the natural and human attributes on the surface of Earth.

Singing below them in their own primordial-tectonic aria, Tangier cinched low-heeled against the pale sands of Algeria, the base of Spain yielding and cleaving under the weight of Gibraltar and the surging Alboran Sea as it sparkled in the rising sunlight. A vast green oasis was sliding down the throat of the Nile, the wrist-cuffs of pyramids and the Valley of Kings visibly draped in the trailing sand-veil of the Egyptian Western Dessert as the turquoise Gulf of Suez loomed over the thirsty sun-bleached sand hues of Egypt.

The sensation of Edward's fingertips tracing the indentations of her ribs through her t-shirt compelled Bella to twist into his palm, hoping that his touches meant what she wanted them to.

"Place your toes to grip that bar, and hold on tight, baby. I'm suddenly ravenous."

Bella always enjoyed sharing in her husband's hunger and appreciated the spontaneity in which it often arose. She loved everything about the drive and determination he applied to every situation in life, and she especially loved the consonance of the erotic melody he created with his magical fingertips and tongue. Sighing at the sensation of his palms snaking underneath her t-shirt to tease her hardening nipples, she slipped her socked toes beneath the bar, curling them back to gain leverage. With no need for a bra in microgravity, his movements were unencumbered and swift - decidedly how she wanted him to be. Edward marveled at the sensation and shape of her flesh in his palms under the influence of weightlessness, an erotic malleability beyond his wildest dreams.

Newton's breathing increased when he realized that the couple hadn't gone into the laboratory to perform a secret experiment that might bring them closer to the Volturi award, yet that didn't compel him to turn away and return to his own research. His envious obsession with Cullen had festered too long to miss the opportunity to observe the _perfect_ couple unaware, and while Michael knew that what he was about to witness might make him feel even more inadequate, he was unable to leave them some privacy.

Edward and Bella had been advised in NASA training that intimacy in Micro G would be demandingly tricky and were given tips for the helpful uses of super thin double sided Velcro filament – an antique invention that withstood the test of time, made stronger and nearly thread-thin by advances in technology. Luckily for them both, Edward carried a roll of it in his pocket at all times since they boarded the Skylab, a clairvoyant move with looming, erotic thumpbooms of promise. They'd only ever had sex aboard the space station within the privacy of their small sleeping pod, sharing a sleeping pouch made especially for couples. It was designed to aid the closeness lovers require despite the hindrances of microgravity moving them in opposite directions. The tight-fitting sleeping contraption made intimacy easier, _almost_ effortless.

As the couple kissed each other and their bodies moved within the unrestrained liberation of near Zero-G, they realized that the rumors about the difficulty in having sex on the station were valid ones. They began taking the whispered recommendations to heart. _Velcro secured tightly. Strong Grip. Get ready to activate the Advanced Exhaust Technologies AdvExt in a hurry to remove any remnants of the "happy ending" from the air. _This was the only advice given to those curious enough to explore the weightless sex possibilities outside the sleeping modules on Tweyel8, and they felt especially adventurous at the moment … and particularly grateful for the invention of industrial strength double-sided Velcro, which clearly was the best invention _ever_.

Bella sighed as Edward's fingertips ghosted down her rib cage and began tracing the inside elastic band of her grey flight shorts. He snaked his forearm around her waist and floated around to the front of her body, his back brushing against the window as he stuck his feet within the bars near the floor to gain his own leverage, pulling her shorts down with ease. The momentum of his descent caused her toes to slip from their grip in order to free the shorts from her ankles, her body lifting in a slow rise, her knees slowly drifting upward to brush against his shoulders, her thighs gaining purchase against ears as lust-laden moans lingered on her lips.

The moment Edward's tongue licked against Bella's clit, the momentum of his slightest touch sent her in the direction of the ceiling of the module, offering him easier access to the place his mouth wanted most, but the drift of her body away from his tongue hindered his pace. The challenges of weightlessness were becoming more apparent to them both.

Their obvious difficulty inspired Michael to smirk and silently chuckle, receiving great delight in their misfortune attempts at love making. He was impressed with the feminine curves of Isabella's body, the vision of the apex of her thighs, the luscious curve of her hips and long, bare legs spreading for her husband an erotic vision he began to covet, lust spiking through the bitter-toothed clenching of his jaw.

Bella's brown halo of hair swarmed around her face as her chin lowered to her sternum, brown eyes widening in excitement at seeing the salacious grin on her husband's face. They both chuckled at the sound of the teeth of Velcro releasing from the roll, and then she moaned when the sound of tearing bonds of the Velcro was replaced with Edward's arms and hands deftly bringing the long strip around her, pulling her away from the ceiling. He affixed the end of the bonds tightly behind his neck so that the force of his attentions would not send her wanting heat away from his eager mouth, making it infinitely easier for Edward's tongue and fingertips to work their magic.

The warmth of his lips scratched against her hardening clit, making her moan and spread her legs, the repetitive tilting of her hips matched the upward-downward motion of his tongue. She moaned louder when he slipped two fingers into her, her head flying back and brushing against the ceiling of the module, pushing her deeper against the Velcro bonds and his laving caresses.

When she opened her eyes to look down at her husband, she noticed the worldview beneath her feet and laughed at the thought that came to mind.

"I never realized how much the Persian Gulf looks like a cock from up here."

Edward's wet-hot mouth swept against the inside of her right thigh as he turned his neck slightly to peer beneath them, smiling into the bend of her knee.

"I'm clearly not distracting you enough, love. I've got nine inches of my own ready, if you're wet enough."

He added another finger and her lips widened in pleasure as she nodded, her tilting hips inviting him to give it to her.

"I'm ready for my Deep Space Nine-ward …"

They both threw their heads back and laughed loudly at the old-school Trekkie nickname she'd given him when they first learned that they'd been selected to travel on the next Mars mission. Ever since that announcement, it continued on as a running joke, yet still lasciviously accurate – a fact they were both proud of.

Newton's churlish grunt affirmed his disbelief at the _three and a half fists_ claim, although it was not a new concept to him given Jessica's boasting about knowing those_ particular_ measurements. He didn't want to believe it, and so looked on in hopes that his manly inferiority of being barely _one fist_ was not as sizable a difference from his nemesis.

Edward ripped the end of the velcro from around his neck and unraveled the strand quickly before pulling his way up Bella's body by gripping onto the sides of her t-shirt, soft cotton rubbing against his forearms as she clasped tightly onto his head and neck to thwart their ascent toward the ceiling.

With his back to the window and at eye level with her, Edward gripped Bella by the waist, spun her effortlessly to face the locked door, and then pushed off of the bar at his side to spin them both around to face the view speeding by at over one hundred and seventy thousand miles an hour.

Wrapping the velcro around their lower waists to keep their pelvic bones similarly aligned, he reached to his sides and pulled down the elastic waist of his shorts, his erection springing free and drift-swinging between Bella's opened legs. Realizing that this indeed might be more difficult to achieve than anticipated, she bent her legs and contorted the soles of her socked feet to leverage her lower body against the small metal rise surrounding the window. Curling her forearms around the bars next to the window and locking her elbows at the base of them, she offered him the perfect angel to lift her thighs into the air and draw her back onto him, impaling her to the hilt, apex swallowing thrust, her toes curling behind them as the sensations deepened.

Newton's delusions deflated with the confirmation that Cullen was indeed as large as was rumored, and perhaps even more so, he closed his eyes and seethed against the unyielding bars of his mind-cage, his painful, surging emotions of hostility and inferiority his prison once again. It hurt him to look upon the perfect couple any longer, so he gathered his wounded pride and disconnected from the stream of the drone.

_He has my life. I want what they have. I'll have it one day._

Meanwhile, Edward was finding new ways to love his wife. With his own soles curled into the bar beneath the window, he bent forward to lick the side of her neck as her hair floated around them, tickling his face and compelling him to let go of one thigh long enough to drag the mass of brown strands into a ball within his fist, shoving it into the back of her T-shirt to restrain it, before gripping her thigh once more.

He paused and she opened her eyes, wondering why his movement had stilled. Their attention was immediately drawn to the Earth beneath them.

The ancient-stoned armada of the Great Wall was marching across China, segments gently hidden by a feathering scrim of mauve-wisped clouds along the vast serpentine structure below, the darkening landscape indicating the Earth's fall under the violet hued seduction of twilight once again.

"At least we saw it this time. Luck hasn't been in our favor with the cloud cover on our last few passesohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh …"

Her words were replaced with hungry bleats as he yanked her roughly onto him in quick successive jerks, a staccato of passion building in their excitement. He reached around her hip and began rubbing her aching clitoris roughly with teasing fingers, trembles morphing into frenzied thrashing as the rush overwhelmed them, both coming within moments of the other in tenaciously mutual spasms of their mind-robbing release.

_Thumpboom, indeed._

Gentling her down with soothing passes of heated fingertips on her flushed skin, Edward and Bella panted from the intense pleasure they'd just experienced as they attempted to calm their rushing breaths.

Realizing that they'd been away from their lab duties longer than planned, Edward pushed the blue button on the RegLink, the cooling sensation of the artificially enhanced evaporation tingling the skin, before reaching out to grab their floating clothes. They both moaned in protest of movement as they tried putting on their clothes. The physical maneuvering and exertion was far more substantial than either expected.

After righting their clothes into place, Edward kissed Bella one last time before activating the unlocking mechanism from his wristband, the door slid open with quiet efficiency. They drifted past the Sky Lab's supply bay, vertical and horizontal rows of supplies lined up meticulously behind latched restraints to keep them tightly in place. As they neared the common area, they noticed an increase of activity, a reminder that it would become far more crowded in a few hours, when the next wave of space travelers would dock on the Tweyel8 in preparation for the journey to Mars.

For now, they would take advantage of the fact that there was no line for the newly installed and redesigned steam showers, because they certainly needed one after what they'd just done. Unfortunately, there was only room enough for _one _person in each. Edward silently vowed that he'd make a note to NASA in his next log, asking them to consider the possibility of units large enough so that resources could be shared - for the sake of conservation, of course.

* * *

In the privacy of their sleeping pod, cuddled tightly within their cocoon of warmth, the couple reflected upon the day's events.

"I don't like the way he looks at you, Edward. His mouth turns downward whenever you're near him, like he's snarling, and he constantly moves into your personal space and stays closer to you than he does with anyone else. And when he shook my hand in hello, I felt he might crush it. There was no friendliness in it, more like he wanted to overpower me or hurt me. I know you can take care of yourself, but please watch him closely. I think there's some ill-will there. He always acted so strangely when we were at the Academy, so withdrawn despite your attempts to include him. He's … I don't _know_, but I don't like how me makes me feel."

Edward nodded in agreement but said nothing in response, because he always tried to remain charitable about his thoughts of others. He believed in the goodness and potential of everyone he met, and he'd tried to befriend the withdrawn Newton many times, yet his attempts were often met with declining scowls. Michael had often struck him as an odd sort of fellow. His laboratory results were known to be substandard, he tried very hard to impress others with his father's money, was never able to maintain a serious romantic relationship and always seemed floundering in situations that most would find easy to adapt to. He seemed to Edward an under-achiever and someone who had the access to resources to blatantly buy their way through life without qualms about being selfishly opportunistic. _Utterly uninspired and unwilling to work for anything worthwhile, on his own merit._ Yet Newton thrived in certain areas in science and managed to win the salutatorian spot by senior year, so Edward knew better than to underestimate his abilities, even if they'd probably been paid for. He figured that Newton's withdrawn and strange behavior was because he was having a bad day, an assumption that reflected the fact that Edward's admirable ideals were something he lived by.

Sighing, Edward closed his eyes and gripped Bella tighter. He didn't want to give Michael Newton one more moment of his thoughts, when he could be more pleasantly engaged with his wife doing _other_ things. He zipped up the top of their sleeping pouch and pulled the interior contraption tight to show her what was _really_ on his mind.

* * *

As Michael made his way to the steam showers, he stopped and glared at the closed door of the Cullens' sleep pod. Isabella was not his type, and he didn't find her nearly as attractive as other men might, yet his false sense of attraction showcased his rather dubious obsession, his poisonous contradictions ceding to self-denial – another thing he excelled at. The thought of her luscious body and what Cullen was able to give to her further poisoned his visual-darts at their door. He dropped his gaze to the latch that locked them in, and kept him _out_, unable to overcome the fact that he wanted their happiness and the undeniable emotional and physical connection they shared with one another.

The corners of his mouth pulled down beneath the weight of his vexation and poisoning onus, his eyes narrowing to slits. Floating onward before someone caught him lurking near their door, he ventured into the steam shower, where he hoped he would find a better mood and some kind of light to shine on his intentions for traveling to Mars in the first place … to establish his own successes and find a stunningly beautiful _someone_ to share them with.

_To find a mate and have a family that unconditionally adored him._

_Become wealthier than his father._

_Receive accolades that superseded any praise Cullen received._

_To be better than everyone._

Mike smiled at his mental check-list of his very attainable goals as he undressed and drifted into the shower unit before activating the proemial mechanism, warmth enveloping his epidermis - but sadly not the muscular organ beneath his sternum - the mingling acrimony and personal umbrage of disfavor pumping through his heart and veins instead, a poisonous life-source fueling a mind that began thinking of ways to eliminate the threat Cullen's existence meant to his ambitions.

Murmurs of _sotto voce_ lethal longing hushed their villainous intentions as the hush-taut strings of his envy began to hum beneath the strength of the tempo of his designs as they began to alter and disintegrate.

* * *

Over the next few days, Michael struggled with making new friends. He'd hoped that he would connect with a few travelers before they embarked on the nine-month trip to Mars, and yet everyone seemed closed off to his offerings of friendship. Of course, he blamed Edward Cullen for this, because he seemed to command everyone's attention, as if he were a magnet for happiness and success, something that Newton continued to seethe against. He continued to push out the world that he wanted inside, leaving him restraint-charred as burned out cinder, growing tired of moderating his potential power over others. He became bored of trying to undermine the achievements of others in the typical ways he had previously, and was sick of being pushed aside when he believed he was more than capable of doing the kind of pushing that got absolute results … murderous ones that would resolutely end all of his problems.

Since he was adept at creeping in shadows and remaining off of radars, his exploitation of his new-found resolve took shape dangerously and without remorse, his poisonous envy manifesting in the most insidious way possible as he floated towards Edward's lab station holding a test tube of deadly compound mislabeled as a common one with a similar appearance … one he knew the lab team would be experimenting with after they enjoyed their lunch.

Newton thrived in situations where he could benefit off of the trusting natures of others, which was why he so easily slipped a minute trace of Elsilarc into the uncapped, empty test tube at Cullen's unlocked lab station while he and his perfect wife were eating lunch in the dining bay. A new compound discovered late in the previous century, Elsilarc was a nearly transparent powder and a poisonous compound in the form of a gas, especially when mixed with water, something that Newton knew would be added to Edward's next step in his chemical research given the H2O foiled packets affixed neatly to the stationary storage along the left side of his lab table. The Tweyel8 had been equipped with the latest chemical testing modules, self-contained units that allowed for complex experiments to be performed despite the hindrance of the microgravity environment – something easily susceptible now, given the fact that Edward didn't take care in securing his.

Newton learned from one of his drone's reconnaissance missions into the control module that the security cameras were experiencing problems and were currently non-operational. He was aware that the space station would have near-instant preventative reactionary protocols in place, so that only a limited amount of the time would elapse before the gas was sucked into the AdvExt system and replaced with clean air. He was confident that exposure to the gas would be long enough to take out his prime nemesis at the very least and both Cullens if he was lucky, as their lab stations were next to each other.

Knowing that the cameras were currently inoperable was reassuring enough to Newton, but to cover all his bases, he also placed a small amount in the vial centered on his own lab station to ensure that no one could point to him as the culprit of the deadly sabotage. Mislabeling of elements in space laboratories had occurred in the past, so it was conceivable that even Cullen's obnoxiously bright mind might make such a fatal error with no one the wiser.

After ensuring that his revenge was solidly put into place, Newton made sure that his drone was hidden in the vent above so he could watch the mayhem unfold as he placed the mislabeled vial in the slot intended for its harmless counterpart. He pushed off of his lab station and drifted in the direction of the cargo bay to hide, only to be distracted by the boisterous eruption of excitement of a large group gathered around Edward Cullen in the next pod.

The lead physicist on the station floated over and patted Edward's back in congratulations before announcing, "I want to commend Mr. Cullen for his breakthrough in researching Cryogenic propellants. The Academy just contacted NASA to inform us that his final project thesis successfully solved a problem those suits back on Earth have been toiling over for years! He's just been awarded the Volturi Scientific Consortium Award!"

Even _the suits_ were applauding and waving from the screens displayed on the walls showing mission control in Houston.

Bella pulled her husband into a hug, sharing her pride in the joyous moment as the group hovering around the couple clapped and shouted loudly in excitement. Michael glared at the happy couple as they floated near the dining area, engaged in animated conversation with those around them and sharing in laughter. Their happiness felt tangible, everyone around them smiling in merriment, and the desperation of his loss hit Newton full force, his failure at bettering his chief nemesis overpowering his ability to reason.

Newton knew he couldn't compete with someone who'd already won his most cherished prize, but he could make sure, despite the precautionary safety filters of the Tweyel8, that he could temporarily beat that system by overloading its capabilities … that if he couldn't win, he could at least be certain that Cullen would be deprived of enjoying the ten million dollar monetary reward too.

Understanding with chilling clarity that he had nothing left to lose now - what mattered to _him_, at least, led to Newton's last calm breath before succumbing to his rage, deciding that he wouldn't hide in a far-off part of the station after all. He'd make sure that his revenge was complete, even if it meant taking his own life to make sure it happened, and that he'd take as many of these _happy assholes_ with him as possible, not caring about the consequences. He just wanted to satisfy that ravenous drive to truly and utterly destroy the man who always bested him.

_If I go out, I'm doing it with a fucking bang!_

He grabbed the vile of Elsilarc and shook it violently in the air, creating a small pearl-hazed powder cloud that slowly spread outward in a creeping veil of death barely detectable to the naked eye. Newton might've been a cheat, plagiarist and intellectual fraud, but he knew enough to remember that the human body was comprised of nearly sixty percent water, and blood was made up of over ninety percent H2O, so things would get interesting as the scientists entered the lab. He was _counting_ on it and couldn't wait to fuck up Cullen's handsome face before he ruined his perfect life.

As he watched Cullen kiss his wife and push back from the dining table to float towards the entrance to the laboratory, his wife gripped the back of his shirt to pull him backward, attempting to stop their momentum in confusion at the faint yet cloying smell of strawberries - something any chemist knew to be afraid of, because only one element carried that sweetly-venomous aroma, and it was one of the most deadly toxins known to man. Using Elsilarc in test samples had been quite common under controlled circumstances, but Bella knew that they would be working with water that afternoon, so she sensed intuitively that something was off. Her shout was blade-edged with dread, "Stop! No one move! Does anyone else smell strawberries?"

All of the scientists tried halting their forward movement into the laboratory, yet there was nothing but the partition walls of their lab stations to stop them, their momentum in microgravity bringing them even closer to the danger. Edward pulled at Bella's shirt to propel her away from the lab stations and he kicked at the wall to get ahead of the group, a sense of danger noxiously teeming near the entrance to laboratory.

Plagued and blinded by the crescendoing envy that was feeding the darkening in his corroded rivalry and upset by the fact that his catalyst had been detected so easily by that _meddling cunt_, Newton's jaundiced tunnel vision led him to the point of mislead action evoked by his tainted chemistry. His adrenal glands spring-boarded off the kidneys to drop-kick the heart, flooding his blood, muscles and brain with that delicious, envious high he'd grown addicted to.

He grabbed a sharp bladed lancet from the instrument storage bay on the wall and kicked off the lab partition, flinging himself past Bella and slicing her right arm and chest open with the sharp blade before slamming into Edward with such force that Cullen's head and right shoulder left dents in the metal grate before his painful moans rose from his throat, the blade painfully slashing through his handsome face from cheek to chin, and then stabbing him in the upper chest. Large blood-red orbs spewed from Bella's and Edward's wounds and drifted away from their bodies as the front of Edward's grey t-shirt revealed a spreading quagmire of plasma, the silver-savaged monument of Newton's rage protruding outward from Cullen's heaving chest as screams of horror flew through the air from the other scientists, Bella's frantic yowl's rising above the rest.

The agony radiating through his body didn't overtake Edward in a dissolution of awareness before he heard Michael yell, "You have my life!"

Bewildered by the resentment in the crazed man's voice and suddenly very frightened by the bag of water Michael lifted from the surface of the laboratory table, Edward grabbed Newton's shirt to keep him from allowing the water to get near the uncapped vial he believed to hold the Elsilarc on the surface next to them, the deadly-sheening particles of powder weightlessly floating out of the vial, into the air around the group that watched on in horror.

But Edward underestimated the villain's plan and was too late. Mike squeezed the water indiscriminately in the air, creating the deadly reaction the crazed man hoped for, the diffusion of the grassy colored fumes pouring off of the water droplets floating around the laboratory as the throbbing in Edward's chest worsened with gasping breaths, the vision of his bleeding and panicked wife the last thing that Edward remembered before losing consciousness beneath the surge of extraordinary pain.

* * *

"Whyyyy does he always best me?! Even when I surrounded him in a deadly toxin, he was able to win!"

Painfully restrained to his seat as his face puce-twisted in rage, Newton's eyes widened as the man seated next to him on the Earth transport reached into the satchel affixed to the side of his seat and withdrew a large needled instrument.

Panicked, Newton began screaming, "Untie me! Do you know who I am?! Who my father is?! You'll be jobless in a few hours when he hears about how you've tied me down like an animal!"

The look of gratification on the stranger's face suspended the screamed threats, the unknown man's authoritative voice cutting through the fuselage, the small space craft jerking violently as it descended through the Earth's atmosphere.

"Your father's the one who sent us, you stupid fuck. When he caught wind of your homicidal actions, he made sure that we accompanied the crew to insure that you didn't do anything rash and that you made it to prison in one piece. He wants you to suffer, to pay for embarrassing the esteemed Newton family legacy. Enjoy oblivion!"

The needle surged into his thigh as the anti-psychotic sedative took effect, the dawning of true despondency of his situation drowning Newton's hopes as he re-submerged in darkness, along with the useless wish that the tears streaming down his face served some purpose – that they would inspire some compassion in the men around him so that they might appeal to his father on his behalf, to procure his freedom somehow.

They didn't, only laughing at his weakness as his eyes leaked desperation.

When he woke up from his sedative slumber, he was in a small, cold, and dirty cell not much bigger than his cot, a slit of a window revealing a sun-shaft so narrow that it was the width of finger, and not nearly enough to warm him in the after-fire of his chilling consequences.

As the minutes turned into hours, Newton guessed at the time and imagined what he would be doing at that moment, assuming that he hadn't snapped. The spacefarers would be boarding the Aro Star Ship, where he should've been among them. His once boundless horizon, filled with the possibilities of footfalls on distant planets, had now shrunk to the claustrophobic range of six human steps in any direction within his cell … a solemn-thin column of light holding up the lonely daylight hours his only companion, all sympathy and opportunity lost.

His eyes lowered to the space beyond his cell door, feeling overwhelming envy for the freedom of the shadows that moved along the walls beyond the bars.

And even _they_ evaded his grasp, besting him with their haunting privilege.

* * *

The sounds of the rhythmic beeping next to his ear alerted Edward to the fact that he was indeed still alive and strapped to a table in the medical bay. He barely distinguished his wife's frantic pleas for answers, her flagging composure evident in her tone frayed in anger – very _unlike_ the cool and collected woman he married.

"That sick asshole better rot in prison! I wish I killed him with my own hands before he was taken away! How he passed the stringent mental evaluations to meet the strenuous requirements for life in any of the space settlements makes me worry for the safety of all of us if crazy people like this slip through. I think about the deadly consequences and hope he pays for this with the rest of his disgusting life! I thought he might be jealous of my husband's accomplishments, but who knew his envy would bring him to the point of this much malice? He's delusional and dangerous!"

Edward was having a hard time re-emerging from the haze of drugs he'd been placed under, and yet he had the wherewithal enough to contemplate the seriousness of what his wife was saying. He imagined the colonists from civilizations of ancient human history as they traveled towards the unknown, having to be brave despite their fears or what they might face on the horizon, or the distance they traveled away from the protective measures of civilization. Danger. Deadly. Delusional.

_So many D's and nothing resembling one if the most stable D isotopes, Deuterium __ … none of these things resembling anything safe, especially not Michael Newton. I loooooove these drugs _…

An unfamiliar female voice said, "I think he's coming to, Mrs. Cullen."

Bella drifted closer to her husband and took his hand within hers, gently rubbing his knuckles with her quivering fingertips. He could feel the tension radiating off of her skin, her voice still tinged with it.

"Honey, the medical team sealed our wounds with Bio-Healant and reset your shoulder. I promise you I'm alright and so are you. Your scan shows everything is back into place in your shoulder joint and no evidence of concussion or internal bleeding in your chest. You'll be as good as new in a few days and neither of us will have any scars. Look, my wounds are already undetectable. Yours are too."

Edward's eyelids fluttered in attempted acclimation and stared at the fuzzy beauty that he knew to be his wife, who was hovering over him, wisps of her hair floating around in the dim light above where he was strapped down as she pulled up her sleeve to show him where her wound should've been. Yet words alluded him, save for one.

"Plutonium."

His voice was scratchy and dim, yet Bella nodded and laughed at how scientifically oriented her husband's mind remained despite the trauma, assuming he'd just heard her comments - the chemist in him comparing one of the most unstable elements, Plutonium, to the equally unstable and dangerous Michael Newton. The confusion on the physician's face inspired Bella to quantify what her husband meant. She didn't want their departure for Mars to be delayed because her husband was deemed mentally unfit to travel onward, all because he was floating in his residual high on sedatives.

Bella looked at the doctor when she answered, "That_ unstable_ little shit is already on his way back to Earth, Edward." Her gaze dropped to his when the doctor nodded in sudden understanding at the comparison, continuing. "The Space Agency's well aware of everything. He'll be met by authorities when he lands on Earth and will be transported to prison for the rest of his life. There was potential for him to have killed everyone on board the Tweyel8 with the amount of Elsilarc in the air, so there will be sixty counts of attempted murder with a deadly substance, and then the fact that he slashed me and stabbed you only puts the nails deeper in his coffin. The AdvExt exhaust system immediately detected the large amounts of liquid and poison in the air and released an agent to counteract the poisonous fumes while removing the moisture. Everyone on board survived. I promise you we're all alright, and his Daddy won't be able to save him _this_ time."

Edward sighed in relief, relishing in the fact that he wasn't feeling any pain after doing so and that his beautiful Bella was safe too. He was even more relieved that Michael Newton would pay dearly for his actions ... yet he felt disturbingly pinned against the truth of Newton's envy, and shocked by it. It was almost too much to wrap his mind around. Edward had always thought of himself as perceptive and felt disappointed by the fact that he was blindsided by the extent of the disturbed man's hostility.

During their years at the Space Academy prior to dating Bella, he'd tried many times to befriend Newton by inviting him to social gatherings, and his extension of kindness was continually rebuffed...but he'd _tried, _never wanting to exclude anyone, understanding the stressful demands of the Academy and the need to have moments of fun too. After he began dating Bella, he noticed Newton growing even more distant and agitated. Seeing someone like Michael excluded made Edward feel badly for him. He also saw the underlying benefit of being thoughtful and considerate of his potential future colonists, a forward-thinking approach knowing that it was probable that he'd spend years in the distant colonies interacting with them, everyone depending on each other for support. So Edward's innate positivity and kindness towards others made the digestion of_ you have my life_ too dark a delusion to mentally grasp.

_You have my life._

Edward's scientific mind slipped sideways in an attempt to reach a solution … or at least a general understanding.

_g = GM / r squared _

Newtonian dynamics were clearly at work despite the advent of more complex and cosmically relevant formulas created in the millennia since its inception, yet the proverbial constant was that one Newton didn't subscribe to the mathematical and relevant genius of the other - proven by Michael's faulty computations regarding the gravity of his actions. Considering the mass of his covetous yearning and the distance between green-tinged fantasy and reality, the fuzzy delineation of his radius subverted _deux fois_ and was doubly … Fucked. Up.

_That apple fell far from the tree, rolled down the hill and landed in a steamy pile of shit miles away._

Michael Newton's invidious blindness proved that the value of repercussions mattered, the gravitational constant of his envy sending him back where he belonged - tethered to Earth's surface beneath the looming reminder that the Kármán line was a boundary he would never again transcend … his opportunities squandered, his horizon finite behind unrelenting prison bars.

Just as in the fairytales, myths, and legends he remembered from his childhood, Edward couldn't help but be reminded of the stories that featured villains who enviously coveted something that the protagonist had. In reflecting on the disturbed man's actions and the fact that he was always trying to surpass everyone else, Edward frowned. _That_ was the deadliest part of Newton's envy – how it murdered his future opportunities, his physical being, and his explorer's spirit held to the deadening surface of his new reality by the envious daggers of his own making.

_You. _

_Have. _

_My. _

_Life._

In retrospect, Edward realized with a great deal of sadness that Newton would probably never understand the true moral of his sad story because he never learned the lesson that the only person he needed to impress was _himself_. The only life he needed to live was _his own_. Michael had failed to consider the effects of his poisonous envy, thus depriving himself his own happiness and tragically ending his future within the stifling parameters of a prison cell. The self-indulgence of his feeling worthless compared to Cullen turned into a self-fulfilling prophecy of his potential being wasted behind the bars of worthlessness, a permanent confinement of his own making.

_Your squandered life now has you chained to the prison cell wall, fool._

You.

_Have._

_The._

_Life._

_You._

_DESERVE._

Edward felt incredible relief flood through him at the fact that it was probable that he'd never have to deal with the sullied non-Isaac ever again, and that _their_ fairytale had a happier ending … yet the bend of his thoughts regarding Newtonian dynamics of motion directed his mind in another deliciously lascivious direction entirely. Bella's eyebrows met her forehead in curiosity when she watched her husband's smile grow a little more wicked, a playful curve to one side of his lips telling her he was up to something. Or _wanted_ to be.

With the expansion of his vision and his wife's beautiful features clearly defined, he decided to be bold as he thought about fairytales, _happy endings_ and the atomic number 69, whispering, "Thulium."

The doctor blushed at the innuendo and so did his wife, who was openly laughing at her husband's flirty brazenness in front of the doctor - someone who held the power to veritably nix their future travel plans. The doctor only laughed and nodded, handing Bella a small envelope before taping her wrist, causing her patient to rise and tilt upward.

"No need to make propositions to your wife through atomic numbers, Mr. Cullen, because they won't make a difference. You are on strict orders not to use that shoulder for three days, and I mean it. Microgravity keeps you from feeling the worst of it now, but once you get on board the Aro Star Ship and artificial gravity takes full effect, you're going to be very, VERY sore. If you rest it now, you'll be much better off. Understood?"

He masked the saucy rebelliousness of his thoughts and nodded at the doctor as she released the latches of medical bindings that were keeping him to the table, drifting upward as he slowly rotated the shoulder to stretch it out. It was a measured movement meant as assurance of compliance … until they got to somewhere more private. A quick glance at his wife, with her blush slowly creeping up her cheeks, confirmed his own suspicions that her thoughts were on the same track and that she was appreciative of his meager deception. Another look at the doctor revealed an arched eyebrow and a quirky, skeptical twist of the lips. Edward wasn't fooling anyone in the room, and quite frankly, he didn't give a shit. Dropping the charade and crossing his arms across his chest, he waited to be discharged.

Bella pushed off the wall and drifted over to shake the doctor's hand. "Thanks, Alice."

Alice smiled and pulled Bella into a hug. "You're going to love visiting the farthest colonies, I just know it. And keep in touch. I may transfer to the Pluto settlement soon. Our paths will definitely cross again."

Bella nodded at Alice one last time and turned to her perplexed looking husband before taking his hand, using her velocity to pull him out of the medic bay using his good arm.

"Come on, DS9. I finished up the remaining experiments and packed. You need to go back to the sleep pod and get some extra rest."

Bella floated into Edward's arms as he pulled her towards his chest, his eyes dilated in hunger and disbelief.

"Baby, are you crazy? Rest is the _last _thing on my mind. We've got less than two hours left in microgravity, and you think I'm going to let the fear of pain get in the way of weightless sex while we can have it? After the shock of Newton's crazed actions and the stress of what's just happened, I think we could both benefit from a release. Bella, do you not know me at all?"

She laughed as she held up the envelope Alice handed her in the Medic Bay.

"You place one of these under your tongue when the pain becomes intolerable. It's supposed to last for 24 Earth hours, yet I told her I thought you might need some extra, no recreational prophecy required. There are twenty doses in here. So you still think I don't know you well enough by now, DS9?"

Her smile pushed the blushing apples of her cheeks towards her laughing eyes as Edward's own smirk became a full-on, teeth-baring smile of his own, his eyebrows jumping into his forehead in silent insinuation. Before they floated any closer to the back module, Edward pulled Bella into his chest to face him.

"What was all of that back there about? The doc mentioned colonies. _Plural_. I thought your heart was set on the Mars Margaritifer Terra Settlement."

Bella lifted her shoulders in response before answering, "And after what we've just survived, it makes our opportunities even more precious, and I talked about those feelings with the doc while you were sedated. Alice said that she had a sense about us, and that we'd change our minds and want to see all of the settlements before returning to Earth … _If_ we decide to."

Edward nodded, the mass of coppered disarray on his head swarming in movement, answering, "I'd say she was right … no recreational prophecy required."

Leaning into her left ear, he whispered, "Now, how about Thulium?"

He pulled back when she shook her head, affecting dubiously arched eyebrows announcing his surprise that she would decline the offer since it was one of her favorite sexual positions. She responded, "I think that since we only have a little while left, we go back to that lab and make you earn your nickname, and not just down my throat. Seeing you strapped to that table … "

She leaned into his neck and licked his bobbing Adam's apple, his breath shuddered out as a staccatoed sigh, the sensation of her lush-coated tongue stretched the pleasured groans from deep within his chest.

" … got me very wet, and gave me an idea. Do you have that Velcro on you, DS9?"

He nodded excitedly as she kicked off the wall and spun around, dragging him past the cargo hold, slipping into the small lab and activating the closing of the door before they could be seen, pulling him over to the small area in front of the window.

"I see the islands of Hawaii, which means I'll get to fuck you somewhere over Houston in a few minutes, for old-times sake."

Bella pushed off the window and guided him towards the floor of the module, pulling off his shorts and underwear, allowing the articles of clothing to float by them as she grabbed the Velcro from Edward's pocket before his shorts could drift away from the landing they hovered over.

Unraveling the end, she wrapped the Velcro numerous times through the divot on the metal grated floor just beneath her smiling husband, and then brought it around his waist securely, manacling him into submission and thwarting his drift as she took control. Laddering hand over fist at his t-shirt to aid her motion down his panting chest and trembling stomach, she drifted over the erect length of him, licking the tip as she floated over it, using his muscular legs as leverage to reach and secure his ankles in the same manner.

"That was ingenious of … "

The compliment died on his lips when she pulled her t-shirt over her head, her luscious breasts quivered in the weightlessness, distracting him into mouth-watering silence. He'd remembered an interview he once read given by Michael Collins, one of the first pioneers from Earth's early space missions on Apollo 11, about the beauty and appeal of woman's breasts in weightlessness. Edward couldn't agree more.

And the fact that there was no evidence of Michael's attack on her flawless skin made his smile grow wider in relief.

Bella pushed her left hip against the window sill and flew towards the ceiling, performing a space-slow version of a back flip while pulling off her own shorts and underwear, allowing them to float in the direction of Edward's drifting clothes. When she reached the ceiling, she pushed off with her elbows and moved in the direction of her awe-struck husband, who said, "You're going to be covered in bruises tomorrow."

Once she reached the floor, Bella nodded silently as she used the metal grates beneath her husband to shift down his body because the front of his t-shirt had drifted to bunch up below his armpits, her hard nipples dragging along the bare skin of his torso as she reached her target, her tensile sighs colliding with unsubtle desires.

"I certainly hope so."

Opening her mouth wide to take him as deep as she could, she gripped the half-moon metal indentations in the floor on either side of his hips, pulling her forearms into her biceps as she used the momentum to move up and down his length, humming as she worked him towards the back of her throat, his crave-need mewling trembling the air.

She could feel him harden even further and her impatience and growing urgency compelled her to change tactics. She reached for the third roll of Velcro floating near her head, pulled her mouth from his stone-hard length before she straightened her arms and spun around above him to kneel on his muscular legs to face away from him, her tibias to his upper thighs, using the divots on the floor as leverage for maneuvering. She sighed as he allowed his chest to float upwards so that he could run his fingertips down the rise and fall of each vertebrae as she bent forward to wrap the Velcro under his thighs, fastening the end of the strip behind her knees. She crooned as the leverage and angle allowed her to rise up and sink onto him without the momentum of her shifts causing her to drift, both moaning loudly into the air as she sat all the way down, burying him to the hilt.

"Edward, don't … "

She kept him deep within her as she bent slightly forward to bring her right hand between her legs so she could create a hard-pressed tension on her clit as she felt her orgasm approaching fast, her voice drifting off with her control.

Amused by her sudden inability to speak and turned on by the undulating muscles beginning to roll over his cock and the vision of her luscious ass bouncing on his lap, he huskily whispered, "Yes, love?"

Gasping in reply as she leaned further forward, Edward's fingers wrapped around the crest of her hips as his thumbs drifted downward, the soft pads tracing broad circles down the thin aperture beginning at the base of her waist, and slowly around the dark-puckered, sensitive skin of her most guarded, intimate secret. Bella had always expressed fear about experimenting with anal sex because of his large size. Two and a half fists would frighten most. On occasion, he'd slip a finger in if he was taking her from behind, and she seemed to enjoy that additional sensation - but she'd never considered allowing more than that. Yet this moment felt different, dulled inhibitions dimmed further as the excitement of their last opportunity to fuck in weightlessness hit Bella full force. A heady power overtook her, knowing instinctually that the weightlessness and her position on top would allow her to have complete control of any pace she set - something that fed her previous hesitations. And with their frightening, life-threatening experience in the lab, it was never so clear to Bella how precious their life together was. And fleeting. _Carpe Diem._

The potent feelings encouraged her new intrepid desires as she kept him in her thrall. She knew that if there was a time to try something new … It. Was. _Now._

Turning her head to look at him over her shoulder, his eyes widened when her smirk came into view, her voice the softest silk swathed in temptation, her shyness to share that secret falling away.

"Don't come yet. I want your release in my ass."

The piquant admission burned as it passed her brazen-hued lips, and she could feel the color of fire crawl up her face as the impact of her demand collided with her nerves. Edward's awe-struck face darkened with realization and hunger as his heartbeat kicked against his sternum with the pressure of thumpboom hell-yeahs of a thousand parabolic arcs, reflexively gripping her waist tighter. Red-round finger grips marred her skin as he guided her thrusts backward. Downward. In. The gravity of her invitation pulled at his heart in the most erotic of ways.

Her bold admission nearly forced him to do what she ordered him not to, and he growled to gain his own control as she lost hers, all the while keeping eye contact over the creamy skin of her shoulder. She squeezed him with an orgasm so strong that he was sure that one of the Sky Lab's monitors would detect the compression waves of her cunt as he tried desperately not to release into the veritable internal tug of the spasms milking him down from tip to base.

As soon as the shaking of her body subsided, she lifted up at her knees until she was able to push the tip of him back, towards the firm raised-ring of puckered skin, gently guiding his soaking wet shaft until the wet tip pushed up into the ridged-rise, and then ever so carefully in, begging her secret's release with subtle movements. Edward was stunned by how erotic it was to see the surface tension of her release cling to his dick in a shiny, sensual lubrication perfect for what she needed. His wife had clearly given the micro-gravitational physics of this necessary lubrication more thought than he ever considered himself, something he was grateful for.

Slowly, so slowly, Bella set free a deep breath when she realized that there was no pain, just the gradual stretching sensation of adjustment. The weightlessness offered her complete control over the pressure she applied, and as she sat slowly back, Edward's eyes widened at the extreme pleasure of the new kind of sensation of compression, and the almost unbelievable visual of her sinking down onto him, in the one part of her body he'd never be given admittance - with the full length of _him. _The realization of that surprise offering, that gift, is what finally sent him flying over the edge. The spasms of release rocked his body as his chest met her spine, his arms encircled her waist and the fingers of his right hand rubbed hard against her clit while he snaked three fingers into her slit, slipping them _ininindeeperinininnnn_, creating such an extreme sense of fullness that she felt overwhelmed, his presence filling her in so many places at once.

Bella shook so violently from her second release that her throat burned painfully from having swallowed her screams, and her right shoulder throbbed from the sensation of Edward's teeth leaving deep imprints while trying to stifle his own screams of intense pleasure of his own unraveling.

Violently panting and bonelessly sated, Bella flexed her thighs to lift off of her quivering husband enough to allow him to drift from her backside, yet he refused to release her, bringing his essence-clinged fingers around her waist, up her body and over her shoulder to his eager tongue, while his left arm held her spine hostage to his chest. When she hit the blue button on her RegLink, the remainder of their release disappeared from their bodies, both moaned at the cool sensation as it evaporated off of their pleasure-sensitive skin.

"Aw, look, you did what you said you would, and most decidedly, I might add." Edward's words and chuckle reverberated through Bella's spine as she slowly straightened her knees to pull at the ends of the Velcro, the bite of millions of black teeth tearing apart as weightlessness reclaimed her. She leaned towards her husband's ankles to free his legs, and then used the grates on the floor with her fingers to angle towards his chest, where his waist was untethered. The motion of the last bonds breaking sent them towards the window, which showed the majestic, meandering veins of North America flowing into the foot of Louisiana, just below them.

"Yup. I think we gave Houston quite a … I think my orgasm just had another orgasm, and I'm too exhausted to move. Can we just float here for a while? What time is it?" Her quiet voice made it difficult for Edward to hear the last part of her question, but when he looked at his watch, he sped into action, grabbing at their clothes, guiding her underwear and shorts over her weary legs before pulling on his own garments, their t-shirts the last article of clothing to be righted. After grabbing the floating Velcro strands and shoving them into his pockets, he said, "I wish we could, baby, but we've got to get our new suits on before they seal off the tunnel to the Aro, which should've docked by now. Let's go before we miss it!"

Smiling at her husband's contagious spike in energy, she accepted his outstretched palm and unlocked the door, ready to face their future and relieved beyond measure that Newton's envious homicidal tendencies hadn't deprived them of the monumental achievement at hand … an adventure they'd worked hard for and dreamt about for so long.

Their time to begin their voyage was _now_, and they couldn't wait.

* * *

They floated effortlessly across the sky bridge that had unfurled for them in welcome aboard the Aro Star Ship, the massive, circular shaped vessel that would be their home for the next few months. A clear tube lit by soothing blue lights illuminated their greeting, the bridge leading to the innermost hub of the wheel-like structure as it spun in the sky. The rolling ship created the motion mimicking the rotation of the Earth, reproducing the gravitational pressure humans were used to. They'd never seen a Star Ship of this size and felt overwhelmed by the scope of technology that went into its assembly - the same technology that would deliver them to the far reaches of the solar system one day.

As Edward and Bella held hands tightly and floated towards the large metal doors leading to the gravitational orientation chamber ahead, their gaze was drawn beyond the lights of the tunnel, and beyond the bowed horizon of the Earth below them. The vastness of space hymned-wide with stars, spilled like the glitter on the artwork they used to make as children - bursts of brilliance humming within the cosmic consonance of space.

Then their gaze was drawn to the Earth.

Struck by fact that they were looking upon the gorgeous beauty of their home-world, perhaps for the last time, they stilled their forward path using the bars at their sides and paused as they took in the stirring colors of the majestic continents below - gently and so beautifully embraced by seas of blue. The time-hewn shades of earth were as vivid as their memories, of happy remembrances shared with loved ones no longer living, and of the journeys that led them both to this decisive point.

Edward and Bella smiled as they recognized the unmistakable Mid-Eastern portion of Southeastern Asia come into view, the beautiful crown of Vietnam and the lips of Cambodia gracing a small smile as the arm of Thailand jutted out to lift the unfurled and waving hand of Malaysia, as if lightly grasping Sumatra as a handkerchief waving in the air as goodbye.

_Until we meet again, brave adventurers._

Their last pause had been brief, yet belied their final purpose, the siren's song of their infinite horizon beckoned them to move forward - an anthem of courage to inspire them onward. _Seize opportunities. Take risks. Desire to look onward. Fear not, and ascend. _The swell of their dreams began taking shape as they let go of the bars of the tunnel and drifted towards the docking port to the Aro and their new life … the surf of their fearlessness and adventurous resolve one day breaking as stars, distant galaxies the shore they would one day rest on and call home. Until then, the bitten-red planet of Mars awaited to welcome them.

Edward and Bella floated over the threshold that delineated their past and their future, and through the portal into their most daring journey - Their new ascension song had begun with the chorus of the Earth beneath them and the lyrical movement of the shining points of light in their future, enlightening their brilliant momentum into their beautiful unknown.

Dreamdrenched and bold, they joined the crescendoing movement, and sang.

*_slowly lowers baton and closes musical score*_

~.~ **Fine** ~.~


	9. Reveal

**Greed by Robsmyyummy Cabanaboy**

Being included in the SALIGIA compilation has definitely been a highlight in my Fanfic writing experience. Our group of sinners has had many laughs throughout this journey together. So much love and thanks to LayAtHomeMom for being just devilish enough to grab a handful of some of the most special and talented writers out there in order to knock this sucker outta the park. You're the Ouiser to my Clairee. I absolutely love you more than my luggage. Many thanks to Jonesy, Hoodfabulous and LayAtHomeMom for all of their support in pre-reading this bad boy, and to my MFEO beta, LaMomo, who wanted to know where her sweet, innocent, HEA-needing Yummy disappeared to after reading this. Love you to the Motherland and back, my dear. And lastly, huge thanks to our readers who enjoy being just as sinful as the rest of this rockin' gang.

**Gluttony by LayAtHomeMom**

Special thanks to Planetblue and Robsmyyummy Cabanaboy for pre-reading and to my hetero life mate, Carrie ZM for beta'ing this bad bee. Ladies, thank you for the many hours of discussion, hand holding, tough love and liner notes. You dolls are planking awesome and made this so much fun. I appreciate all you guys put into this one-shot! Thank you to each and every one of The Sinners, their betas and our lovely banner maker Ceci Lolypowski for all the hard work you gals did for the compilation. It was a blast, pals!

**Pride by DazzledIn2008**

Pride by DazzledIn2008 - I first have to thank all the other authors in this compilation. I was already fans of theirs, and for them to ask me to join their sinful group just blew me away. Love you all! I have to note that HALF of this story (the second half) was written while I was at jury duty. :) Also, I have to include my usual disclaimer about not criticizing my legal jargon - all of my knowledge of everything legal comes from Law and Order, SVU. Shout out to MaBarberalla, who is my pervy fanfic friend (J'Adore!). As always, I couldn't have written this story, or any other, without the help and direction of my fantastic beta and real life BFF, LibbyLou862. She not only fixes typos, grammar, and tense, but she discusses plot and logistics with me until everything is perfect. And we say dirty words out loud, and it makes me laugh. Love you Libby!

**Lust by Planetblue**

Huge thank you as always to my beta in crime, Carrie ZM who told me I wasn't nuts and got out her holy water for this one. Seriously, I make her question her morals. A gigantic thank you goes to all these great ladies who contributed to this compilation, showing me how wonderful and diverse this fandom can be. I love you all very much, and it's been an honor to work with you. Lastly, to LayAtHomeMom, who isn't only my prereader, but had the vision for this and put it together, joining a truly wonderful group of authors, one I'm proud to be a part of.

**Sloth by SexiLexiCullen**

Hey, you guys! Many thanks to my Master-beta, the lovely HollettLA, my pre-readers LayAtHomeMom, Robsmyyummy Cabanaboy, and Flora Flor, aka My Unholy Foursome. They've been true inspirations, helping me trust my baser instincts. I'd also like to thank the rest of SALIGIA for including me in this exquisite compilation. It's truly been a pleasure, very gratifying, working with such a wonderfully talented group of ladies. Sinsational, even. Most of all, HUGE thanks to all the readers. Thanks for reveling in our divine vices, letting us lead you into temptation, and the depths of depravity to dance with the devil. Always regard the clouds, chase your fantasies, and watch the wind. Hate the sin, not the sinner. And, remember, don't be a hard rock when you are really a gem! Mad love! (smooches)

**Wrath by JonesnDaHood (Jonesn and Hoodfabulous)**

We would like to thank LayAtHomeMom for inviting us to write alongside such a wonderful group of fantastic authors. This collab forced us out of our comfort zone, causing us to discover a genre of writing that we both shockingly (maybe not so shockingly) now enjoy, so thank you for that, Lay. We would like to thank our beta, SunflowerFran for all the hours of hard work and effort she put in while beta'ing this hot mess of a fic (and for not stroking out like we predicted). Thank you, Robsmyyummy Cabanaboy, for pre-reading this insanity and for being such a good friend. We would like to thank the readers for delving into this twisted one-shot. If not for you, we wouldn't have written these kooky characters. And lastly, we would like to thank each other for being awesome. :D

**Envy by GothicTemptress**

I'm so grateful to the goddesses who helped guide me along to turn this into what it became. Planetblue, arts and crafts have never been so enlightening and creatively fun - thanks for holding my hand, for all of your help. LayAtHomeMom, without you, Deep Space Nineward wouldn't exist, and I'm thankful for your humor and all of your hard work in helping me along. RoseArcadia, NKubie and Shay Savage, YOU make naughty fun, and I thank you for being what you are to me, beautiful ladies. CarrieZM, I'm so grateful to you for taking this project on and beta'ing this for me! To my fellow Sinners ... Thank you for making this journey so much fun! I love you ladies, and feel blessed by your support and your friendships. I'd test out double-sided Velco in microgravity with all of you, just sayin'. ;)

**Special Thanks**

The Sinners would like to thank _**Ceci Lolypowski**_ for each and every amazing banner she created for this compilation. Ceci, you are beyond talented and so lovely to work with. The banners you made really set the tone for the entire compilation and definitely added to the intrigue. We are immensely grateful and so proud to have your work as the face of our words

Thank you to the _**FicSisters International House of**_ _**Fanfic**_ site for all of their help getting the word out about The Sinners. We appreciate it!

Need more sin? Check out **The 7 Deadly Sins Twific Contest** (find under writer name SevenSinsTwificContest).

Thank you to everyone who read, reviewed, followed, fav'd, pimped, rec'd, tweeted and lurked this compilation. We hope you had fun playing along. As always, stay classy, fandom!


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